The things I make into habits
I’ve followed the season
of narrow flames and sea salt to where I am now.
I hide the soot under my tongue
and pray to taste
somebody soon. You look
so nice that I could take you
home. My home is sometimes full of
strangers looking out the windows
and saying nothing at all. My home is
hard candy, half furniture and eggshells – everything the fire
I did not think of the ocean when
I kissed you, but maybe I should have.