Erinaceous

I'm swelled; don't touch me yet.
Dark burrowy underground is quieter
Than this way you have of
Picking me up by my shoestrings
So I bristle. It's natural
Someone should not want to be
Turned so upside down as you seem to turn me every
Time you speak. But quiet isn't always good
And safe doesn't always serve me well,
So here we go again
With the speaking and the flipping
And the way you make my quills
Stick out every which-a-way when you call my
Name. Tingling starts in my squishy bits
And works its way towards my spinose ends, and the surprise
Is just more than I really know what to
Do with. So don't touch me yet, or I will ball up around
The flutters (to keep them safely encapsulated) and
Thank you kindly to remember that I do bite.

Utah, Astronomically

Saltine air makes crumbs of my shallow breaths.
The words don't drip anymore,
But with skeletal jerks
They unleash feral snarls from among my ribs
And the air wraps brittle scarves over my legs
Climbing past cat-o-nine-tails ridges on my belly
To snap my head skyward
Where stars like needle pricks
Bite pictures on the black velvet
And the summer night tells and tells how
This sky goes on forever
And there is shortage of neither stars nor moon balm.
I might get it wrong again,
But there will still be stars--stars and Diana--
To sing me moon songs
Even if my outsides turn to brown paper,
And the dried up gullies over my skin
Slish when I walk, telling the story
Of arroyos down my thighs,
Even then there will still be stars aplenty.