THE COLLAPSIBLE OTHER

your airplane fabric
turns staler on my tongue
in the wind and grass exhaust
of the crib's static
where your infant steeps
turns a paler string and ignites
a healthy machine
inoculated and ripe

"give me watercolor for the pain"
you beg for a drink of rain
crying moth light from an ether mask
a steak knife, steepless pushed up
you would bleed your infant dry
if its blood could fill
these clear capsules, one by one
you would swallow your red pills
your blanket of indian tears
from shattered bottles

a healthy machine
a healthy machine
a healthy machine
a time machine

a healthy machine
i would build for you
with electronics and skin
your own Disposable Male
you could unplug and lock
in your hollow side
a festival light affair
for you to sleep alone