crop top my stomach is the playground where i go to be feminine. if a garment could teach me self-praise. i do not want to be celebrated, i want to be indulged. drape me in honey combs. crack open the geode & feed me crystal & for you i will do the same. my fingers in your violin. hairs grow like a thinned forest across my skin. i carry fire in a plastic bucket. hold summer in a walnut half. blindfolded & following lavendar. there will be too much to eat. there will be no noise of restriction. only the abundance we knew was there. to feast is to have a noisy body & still carve revelry from it.