Phonemes
I won’t remember the indemnities
proposed by bodies to love
that fell to the faults
beneath this Earth’s dough.
I won’t remember the rooked drafts we hoped
would revert our own eyes
to sponsor visages.
I won’t remember the pluvial morass
that sunk the house and left us
with erotic monomania,
ineffable drownings,
and drawn-out boardings.
The only philters we remember
are the phantasmic phonemes
splintering the spirants of your name
from the palatal mutings of steam.
An Incident