Caught mid-slide against a notch in the thread
Strung oily from thunder to sludge,
Between a grunt and your claim of cry,
This glass bead only cracks,
Never sighs, dust facet finality,
I remember your nerve endings—
Charred, yearning. I wrapped their vines
Tight as twine around my throat trunk,
Let them burn the space between my fingers,
The smooth desperate hills of my diaphragm
But your groaning couldn’t feel how it frayed
My taut pleadful wire of an ear,
Or left my eyes cold as the fish I formed
Lying chilled and bleary on the bathroom floor
Macbeth phone hard beneath my too-slack cheek
You’ll imbibe it—us, me, and you did,
Gulping down the fruity smoke like the child
I knew you are, and choked nimble as the candlestick
I snuffed when you dropped to the ground
In that field whose wet disrupted grass I hope to never smell;
I’ll know you in the tile glimmer
Of my failure, your hand grabbing firm
The unyielding small of my back
When we dance, we’ll dance, we danced
Our tenses always and never changed—
I’ll live forever the night of my still, unbroken pride,
Flipping through the domino pages of cabinet doors
Looking for more tears, the hook of your need
Eroding my last unsevered vertebra
Like cheese, my every frozen reach.
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