Our dawns cracked
and splintered off
Like the lashes of the eyes that never
Thought to open,
never sought
To play dew-ruined prisms
for these sky births
Or day deaths, missing
the way they pour red
Through the last chance cracks
of doors like the blood we keep
in plastic sacks
Cold, limp and hideous as
the magnolia flush of the palms
in which you hold them,
Sharp hip against the wall
Ever-widening
In this room we’ll never leave,
Under the clouds that never
leave us and you could but don’t,
The carpet too rough
against your soles
You find my eyes sunless
and too eager
For horizon, for release from the lock
Of your mouth which,
keyless, stoppers any sound
I might wish to make
My arrows always
pass their targets,
If there are any, and go
floundering down
With a careful once-upon-a-time
Gravity into the physics
that litters the paper
I wear in my dreams
and burn in yours
Before we drown
in waves of old
I’ll ask a favor of your
face and reach to curve
the bridge of our several absences
Catching in the notch
beneath my smallest
fingernail the puddle you’ll
build out of need.
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