XIV

Cut up a twin and twinkle some

Of the best weather your county has ever seen.

The instrumentals there are great & I would wear

A trench-coat lined with radios to find a frequency

That best fit the rhythm quietly pulsing a little faster

Now around the dark side of your jugular

I am as close as I can be

The bottle full up with homecomings has slept

On my desk but your pictures have

Been asleep longer & the vines between my teeth

Are begging for you to notice them

Tell me I am a mess & broom my broken

Brilliant milliseconds under the old bear rug.

I’m trying to be meant for teamwork, a dueling

Of likeness & you might be used to this by now

But the sound of owls still gets to me

So what am I supposed to think when all of a sudden

Your breath in air thinner, the rope above

Won’t even matter anymore and we will

Forget to look up, the spines of books

Turned sideways to better collect the skin we shed,

Looking peripheral at the skyline of a city

I would rather not remind myself you remain the chest of