i was never one to contemplate


what makes sense to me,
a bleached portrait
of darkness and the great shadow that
hides behind the sun.

but how to understand
if i can’t say what it really means
to numb myself
enough that i can divide up my emotions
in eighths
and serve to her in morsels of
cake

the shallow breath i take,
silent.

she makes it so easy
to indulge
such that i
bulge
when it’s most convenient, for

what can’t i believe when that mind
is blatant with sex?  what
would it take to be her next,

i’ve always wanted to know how to answer
to destiny, wondering if
i wouldn’t be dead should love have been a
flight of fancy.

“i’d almost given up on you” and my god, how tragic
for an unwed angel to say something so
pure,

the wings fluttered and i stut- stut-

stuttered
to give her my life,

when all she ever asked for was
a morsel of my breath.
and even in death,

to go down on her in the spiritual sense,
scratch my tongue into her breast,
carve out my initials til she bled everything in pain,

though there was nothing i’d expect,
what of the secrets she had kept, while the sun beat me down
until i wept beneath her thunderclouds of rain.




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