She May Be {Edited)

She may be—

a guttural growl from an asphalt sinkhole
where screams in pitch of street light synchronicity
dazzle her eyes like hard candy melt
on her tongue— the taste of saccharine rocket fuel

—and she falls away, falls free, she gives to—

gravity pulling—
the blood running thin from her nose
like juice of a pomegranate
staining her fingers in the surface contemplation of her thumb

phantom lips wax and wane
as witness to a language homicide
—a violent ending to an incoherent thought

the blood runs thicker
slipping the dark caverns of her skull
silver coating the roof of her mouth to protect from the heat
as her body temperature runs high
the unconscious huntress
incinerating landscapes and inhabitants of her repressed mind
—picking them off one-by-one

they dissipate in sunburnt waves of viper percussion
atop a long stretch of desert asphalt
the tarantulas scatter
leaving ghost imprints in her vision, that make her swear she held them in her hand
like stunned birds recuperating from high-rise plate glass trauma

and then the frostbite seizes her bones, ceases the stream of consciousness

sleep-laced words slip the currents of her slowing breaths
—down, down, drowning in the swallow—
—and the death roll—

death extends to her—keeping a distance—he fears her still
he remembers her 
blood like star fire, or was it the tequila seal of her lower lip in kiss
—the permanence—
their fire eating reanimates life, if only for a moment, and she breathes
—shared lungs with a scar tissue tenacity—

her skeletal fabric remnants 
have begun thrashing in their chrysalis cell safety— morphing
the chemical combustion offers a slow pull into a suffocating disintegration
the insanity of letting go in the go
the blooming after wildfire ravaging

—a distant planet turns within itself—

—far, far, far-gotten—

She may be— 
earth static

She may be— 
the moon

She may be— 
the womb to birth a universe anew

E.A. O'Connell