Siphonophores
Amaya López-Carromero
I’ll host a pack of nesting beasts open and honest in my bed
All arms and breath and swirling shores
And opium eyelids drop
Like curtain calls
Mouths filled with grace, hands clenching flesh
To feed you all my pain
Skin breaks like lace, so bleached, in shreds
Like seaweed drifting looms
Translucent bones
A draining bathtub
A mirrorlike lake
To wash our bodies
To soil our face