The night after, I dream I chop
all the penises off, the ones that
keep coming through the walls.
Tied in sweat-wet sheets, I wake
aching, how I’ve longed for touch
for so much of my bodied time.
In the shower later, I notice new
layers I’ve grown, softness love tosses
you after years of streetlights alone.
I will never harm you, your brilliant
skin I rub against in the night,
still, part of me is haunted—
a shadow baying inside me
who wants to snap her hind leg
back, buck the rider, follow
that fugitive call into oblivion.