even now, this dream scape is assembling, 
even as the screws twist left. the only thing 
we built together is unfinished:

the dresser’s cardboard spine pinned, but drawers on 
the floor, severed panels I step over
in the dark. noting each detail. I watched 

you count each nail, because I'm impatient, 
I'll leave it this way - gaping - with sunrise 
seeping through my window shades. I want to

wake with a stutter or a slap. I no longer 
believe in things coming ready-
made. I expect to need a hammer. when I've 

slept enough, I'll pluck a costume off its
hangar, and when I spin in that pretty 
dress, it'll be like screws are in my feet.