by David Veloz

I'm eating all the time,
but I need more. My shirt
fits like a wolf or like
a wolf suit on a woman
who starves herself for love.

My ribs rattle when I sleep,
my knuckles puff when I
crack them. If I ask
you to fish me out
of an icy jail or dress
me with your hands in your pockets,

believe me that my own pockets
are mouths like your mouth
around my hands, and my pants
are tight around the knees,
which is nothing like you and my knees.