Sex and Pounds

The last thing the sky said
to me was,
"I am tired of spreading myself
open
for you. You do not even look at
me with lust
anymore."

Now, in heaven, god takes me
apart gently.
He weighs hands and fingers,
arms
and legs. He wants to see
if I am more than the sum of my
parts.
He is shy, he weighs my tongue
and does not look
at the naked space between my
lips.
His line of sight trawls the blue
floor.
He speaks to me, "sometimes
they weigh less,"
he says, "some of them
scattered themselves
like rose petals over other
people's beds."
I think of the mouth I left on
someone's shoulder.

"Once," he says,
"a girl weighed pounds and
pounds
more than the sum of arms and
legs...
tongue. We opened her up
and she was a geode, she had
exploded
into crystals. She said she ached
all the time."
He paused, then finished softly, 
"she was so filled with wanting
that the inside of her teethed
a million crystals."

I think of the fossil mouth
on the inside of my thigh, parted
like an empty shell.
I think of the time I was so lonely
that I let gravity kiss the arch of
my foot
hard, and then harder.