The bananas perch in the bowl,
severed as a woman’s hand.
I am undressing in the kitchen,
want you to touch me,

severed as a woman’s hand.
Divorce me, if you want to, I
want you to touch me
right here, in the kitchen lights—

Divorce me if you want, I
know what this looks like
right here, in the kitchen lights—
the knife handles glinting—just

know what this looks like,
it is an even slice, a piece, appealing,
the knife handles glinting—just
where we can see them. A corner, a sigh.

An even slice, a pealing,
unhinge you from your skin, your eyes
where we can see them, cornered, sigh—
How you appear florescent in this light.

Unhinge me from this skin, my eyes
want to see more open windows,
how you appear in this light,
to be alive and not want something,

want to see more open windows,
the vastness of this continual night
to be alive and not want something besides
these bananas, perched—this bowl: mine.