Projection
  by Tiana Finney

Knowing sometimes:
how my corneas are fig farms,
how you sense demons
masquerading as pomegranates
or climb through insect wings
in your shower,
how on holidays you think you’re sewing turbans
for dusk and I’m dissecting emerald artichokes…
Words, to us, are a delicacy
on our breakfast tray
and relationships are encompassed by
coconut milk and lavender oil.
Knowing all this –
my wavering reality is a deceiving idea
and my knowledge is
its unreliable slave.