I am the deep swell below my tongue. Here is the belly of the whale, candlesticks and blue cradles, nursery rhymes waterlogged. All I see is gold light spinning, here is the melt, my mouth as hot wax. Here is what I want: to be forgiven / backwards. Have my voice return to my throat through the parking garage. In the art museum with your red breath, forgive my shoulder blades easy, voice so melted yellow it pours down my chest. All I want is to see through these walls without turning my head. All my limbs turned to snow, a slow dissociation. There is a hole in my cheek. Winter air floods in. Forgive me swan, wings spread like a sugar tongue. Forgive me like November, all goosebumps and milklight. I just want your fingers, thin and pale and fish-boned. All I want is for sight to be my body, swim museums like a ghost.