I have two horoscopes 
I am an invertebrate in both
Seven years of Saturn is my 
casus belli stabbing the tablecloth

whose threads are verbose with palmistry
of your praying hands, your prying hands
reading my shins, raiding my skin 
for a cloak-and-dagger telepathy 

All sky is water, I have tongued
the perihelion in the book of duat.
In the shadow, I am your spear-
bearer, your bulletproof Siamese twin

I cough up a contraband of crystal balls
I am mapping zodiacs in the wings of 
translucent odalisques. I am pulling 
the night out from the fossil of pinyin tea.

Atlantis, I dream to drown you

when you bloodlet & drink me