Rune for
Gracie Leavitt

Rinsed by a Morse code -- steered by the hips -- we are twins not lovers -- at first we painted the house with the backs of our hands -- then threw rocks at the windows -- a fleet of larks with radishes in their stomachs flew over where we live -- inside we found runes mixed with broken glass along the pelvic floor -- we are in this slack corona's jurisdiction.