love

you’re in d.c. now and you never think about me I mean why would you

want to make small cuts

on the soft parts of the back of your knees

it’s warmer

than it was three hours ago

but the night!

is still wet

it rubs

against my cheek

my head in your neck

bike leaning against the car

wreckage

no one can see

they’re explaining French politics

on the radio and I’m

thinking about fig spread that isn’t yours

spitting up pain pills

into a trash can on 1st and Oltorf

accordions for legs

my love

I know now

why things that are sweet are heavy

least horrible time of day

white fences

turn my stomach and send me

heaving

into the garden gasping

for something

cold

and

metallic

covered in dirt

I realize

we’ll never stay together

for the

children

 

veggie thali is $4.99

wood panels and hanging

lights like hoses I once

thought of

escaping

with

dying

for some fog or at least

wet stone

houses up the hillside

all contain

innards in jars aching quietly falling

crouching

on the steps of a warehouse

in the red light

artificial

far from blood

or tree bark

wrap me up in sheets I don’t care

if you washed them

recently