ways of slowly dying ~ poetry

liminalimits

there are fireflies on the grapevine.

i eat them with my eyes.

sometimes when i reach out for them

i feel the permafrost of anotherness

between my heel and the floor.

anxious with warmlust my fingertips mispincer

and the firegrapes fall into her eyes, because

i've taken off her glasses, and glow there

like seedkisses that sprout into nightsun

which, through the lens of the limits of together,

burns a mole on her chest, like a child burns

an ant with his zoomglass.

the grapes of afterwrath sweeten.

the ants have totemized the used condom

but don't believe in it enough to take it back home.

i feel ants dream all over my body to the point

that i think i'm just ants stacked upon each other

to pass off as tall enough to ride the rollercoaster

or get a drink at the bar.

i'm drunk-driving into her eyes, then sliding down

the irisvine, to reach that part of her from where

i still can't believe she loves me.

~ ajay

14/3/2024