the puss that folds and exits with delicacy

---For Shannon Smith

In her tear ducts the folds measure the distance
from one Canadian haiku to another
or that infinite whine trading one suck-out
for a sore filled with fingernails

The red bends back against itself
its hollows broke on the light in dimes
against any rusted screw exists delicacy
it being designed to bend back

In Mexico sight can grow corn
and it is art
it is a delicacy
we understand how to evolve
to enter and exit

Fold all tabs
and catch sunlight in the center

Four corners calling to the river
sweeping debatable qualities "delicacies"
into a basin of pus to breed and lay down

It was about you
but people came into coffee
and we became Cherry's head in an airport
but that was before pockets grew in our earlobes
and we knew some animals were unfriendly