the drawing of the mark of its teeth carved into the wooden floor and two scraped knees.
a wound mixed with saliva heals faster if licked.

the drawing of the groove carved by the chair leg into the wooden floor tells me how many times I sat and how many times I knelt by its side.

the living scent slowly disappears from the nostrils.
I was left with its sharp sense of smell and its body-as-garment on cold days.
one of its hairs in the pocket of my coat.
the trembling of its body made my raw flesh tremble.

its enormous luminous white belly pulverized in the throat of the Earth.
we sprawled on the ground, choreographing its tail-antenna.
the Sun remained awake, keeping vigil over the light of its lunar birth.
we decolonized language, reanimated imagination, transformed letters into trees, birds, colors.
the guests at our wedding: hazelnuts, sprouts, bay leaves—we are ourselves all of them.
we inhaled deeply even on the days most emptied of oxygen.
we deconstructed the alphabet and spoke the language of twisted branches and footprints in the sand.
the emptiness of words is as full of love as its form.
one of its hairs tears through the underside of my skin and branches through my cellular memory.
the scratched message itches and tells the story of my death.

celestial note: new moon in scorpio​​​​​​​