sensitivity to being cut chewed/devoted to pain gentleness deep/cut deep being deep kindness/feelings of chewed pain/quality of feelings quality of being easy to pain/to chew deep/affectionate pain affection ate pain/kind pain gentle pain the easy pain/quality of the cut/gentle cut/affection ate pain gentle ate pain kindness ate pain/being ate pain

I
This morning is a popsicle stick house
with fractured doors that swing on
empty hinges and clump in the corners
with hot glue. When the wind comes the
castle shudders and we fling our bodies
against its dried resin hoping it will
hold us. Similarly, our bodies made of dust.
The walls clinging onto arms and legs with
sentient rigidity. Safety is only comfortable
when it’s a choice. I whisper
this under a table when I see splinters.

II
This place is haunted. He says it so quickly
I think for a second maybe I said it. Blue
light sawing perforation into my hands, bruised
from dancing with him. Tomorrow is the same
as yesterday is the same as the day before and
I’m always licking melted ice cream off my
shirt sleeve. Later a chair close enough that
our knees are touching and he’s stopped
apologizing for this pressing, this leaning. I
could lap up his tears with my tongue. I would
apologize for this and tell him about waves.

III
He says he could fix the leaking roof and
calls this a castle in the same breath. Rainwater
puddling at his feet I remind him the moat
belongs outside. We drink orange flavored
alcohol on the floor and move photographs
onto couches. I remember all the boys who
have photos of me smiling on beaches. The
third thing I told him was I hated the ocean.
He asks aloud what I mean by haunted and
I say nothing. If a tree falls in a forest does it
make a sound. If a wave destroys everyone’s
story was it just a tear drop. We eat french fries
in my haunted car. Salt stinging stuck to the
corners of my mouth. The lightswitch governs a
room it isn’t in and the rain sounds more like a gun.