Aluminum Rib

I, a servant
of titanium sky
have ground soil to root
in rabid search;
beneath the iron

horizon, amongst
clay-filled waves —
I build her body
out of the dust
left from the crushing

of a geological age.
Her gold veins
tiptoe under skin
as xylem in
obedient trunk —

fat toes clutching
loam before
she too melts
into my
fluid-filled dreams;

Ocean, river, lake, stream

My image hers
— dissolved
by acid rain and
flesh-eating deer:
ankle, calf, heel.

Each time I grab
her, she tells me she
wants to fashion
her own body —
river convulsing

with body parts
formed in sedimentary
heat.
When we finally
wash ashore,

I see
                               ceramic eye,

                                                                                   aluminum rib,
                 fiberglass nervous system —

still telling her
fingers
                 to twitch —

I have always
wanted to forage
along the coast,
gather mollusk, gather
metal, gather

smooth plastic toys
before they pollute
the crust;
I have always
wanted to forage

and so I gathered her
in my arms until
she turned back to
dust. Sweet,
delicious sand

clatters in my
tin gut until I
vomit up her hand,
pointing in the
direction of the river.