the woman tanning
decomposes, melting plastic
into her chair the sun
smells like meat her bathing suit
moulds in seams to her skin like
a kiss she lies still and soaks up
radiation
tonight she claws up from the sea
of sheets, she can’t ever fit
around his ribs
to reach his back, fingernail slice
over goosebumps, a predator always
chasing the roll of a wind over
open skin, open fields
open up
tongue depressor down her
throat the retch of prey
on the operating table
how far down will you find
what she ate yesterday
she is always playing
the red card, never one to
share, she is always playing
dead, the skin of the snake
in which hides the host it has
outgrown