1433

Recommending

trees books of poetry.

Alone and spurned.

I drew a course for

galaxy Proxima

stopped at the gas station

just to amuse the tourists

my third hand

held like a vice

global coupons

out of date

don’t look at me

that move is called

empty sea.

I wonder/wander

through smoke and

mist and Texas nights

I wonder

if you’re still on my side

when I’ve been a scary drunk

face painted and gassy

a little empty room

a divide

a facade

of what my

youth minister once called

“God’s majestic ballroom

gilded inside me.”

And I stare

half clothed

and bloated

my fingers rotting

remembering the steps

us dancing back in 2014.

I ask the dogs

who will hold me

when things fall apart

when I stop building

and my helmet

white and yellow

falls to the red dirt

and I say

like a silver age actor

“I’ve had enough.”

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

nothing good comes

after midnight

my bronze body

laid atop your temple

forgetting

my last attempts were

short effigies

bonfires for the sons of Cain

bad references

bad bodies

stacked overlapping

lust and wish fulfillment

after the second kiss.

Quiet the commoners

while I melt

beautiful and collapsed

under your chest.

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

How often do

her lovers remember

her sweating under the sheets

a little past noon

only waking her

with the sharp strokes

of rubber heels.