IS IT WAR?

Is it war or is it fireworks?
4 + 4 = 16,307
Is math passionate?
A heavy breather?
Slip your fingers under my under things,
Frilly things
Frilly like tripe,
How many stomachs can one person have?
1, 2
Where will these numbers end up inside of me,
Banging and leaking and sighing
Hands on hips, that one and that one,
Both at a time, sounds like ships
Firing canons on a dark sea, bang pop,
Two more times and you’ll shoot just right
Sparks sinking into the deep,
Unless the breeze shifts
And things rock and swell too much
And then,
The wind will blow the firework smoke
Into the mouths of eels

How many articles of clothing does it take,
To become a flower up on top of you?
The backward blast of war ships
Dressing reversely,
Skirt pulled up in front of my face
Like a poppy,
Like a bell, what a belle,
What a shape,
This peeling, subtracting, inverting,
Numbers naked and leaking and sighing
15 - 14,011 = nothing but sinking below the horizon,
Come under, undone, take it all off,
Untied out on the ribboning sea
A wet that will kill you passionately and statistically,
Soaking all your frilly things,
Frilly things like tripe
How did my stomach get on the outside?
Take them off, 1 by one
Eels in the waves
So seasick,
Is it war, baby?