BAD POEM

Can you dress me?
Can you hear my thin skin tear?

Breathe under sea of
Chanting air,
Syllables pulling
Thickly across my cheeks.

Can you hear me
Can you feel words surfacing?

Filter twisted strands
To hard thought
Through fingers curled
Up anemone-style.

Can you feel me?
Can you touch my breath with your skin?

Close hands and open:
Words drift on
Across tense waters,
Sailing serifs to sea. 

Can you touch me?
Can you grab my throat with your hand?

Squeeze into fists; once
Said sail, words
Roam these waters, turn
To knives pointing back home.

Can you grab me?
Can you hold me in spite of everything?