catgut

my catgut eyes string themselves

my body is tuned too sharp

mouth like fishing line

mountains like silver clefts
over by the cloud wreaths

i purchased spain
from my worn
fallen out teeth

incisors hobbled on the table
by the hook and line

for you, i spend a comma
 make the poem pause

i celebrate you with less
words than

imagine:

a violin by your chin
and my song in a chair
with strings thrumming
between the light
begged by our eyes.