1.

He adores the severe folds of her feet

the breaks in their backs

their undone hides

and her toes, so many dead caterpillars

with heads coy into their abdomens.

She: his certain delicacy.

Perhaps coins in each foot’s crevice.

Perhaps ginger in her soft origami folds.

And the yeses.

2.

Lover,

there is styptic

in my step and

a toe in your mouth. What more may

I give a man whose hips

whir like a loose

bee hive?

3.

Before leaving, she embroiders

her lips dutifully – silk insects and blossoms

singing in the cross-stitch.

The only skill she can remember.

4.

Dormant.

She buries herself, head-first.

Her bound feet: spring blossoms.