On Loving by Sabine

You are concerned with being a monolith. With being

a museum. Poster board, boy chested, nailed

to a crucifix by water lilies. Waterlogged symbols 

of girlhood. You wished for a mother to preserve

your untouched body in resin. She rewards

your unmottled skin with cold-lipped kisses. 

Its unbecoming to marry a lost boy, a sailor

left shipless. He cannot look to you even now

as you imagine yourself among the soft girls

constructed entirely of clouds. Whose 

lips have never known the warmth 

of sex, of cliche sins. He blows your body of glass, 

Forms a cannon to take aim. Hits the horn

of a herald; buries the building in snow.