Edible Flowers

We fill duffle bags with ripe fruit,

tearing off leaves that feel like human ears.

We put flowers in our mouths,

the two of us whose bodies have no thickness.

We undress in the pink room,

where the blinds are still closed.

Summer is disintegrating, the heat unravels

in the wind. I feel the skeleton inside my chest.

Outside, emaciated dogs bark in German.

The flowers fade like paintings.

Parasites chew the still water

we held our breath under.

Breeze tears through the fibers

of our bathing suits drying on the back of a chair.