1618

territorial tarantula//

back to Seattle

where we died//

silent moon through violet rooms//

eaten philosophers//

bared and bitten

battered and slow//

to move//

crooked like a silver clasp

struck like a suitcase latch//

was that love in time//

hold the spaniel

while she coughs

while you cut my hair//

we were brave in the mud

we were braving the salt grass//

we were softer

some sets of chrysanthemum lips//

whispered in our ears

a little war

perverted and torn

but we were anyway//

we were good towers

we were moving out of the light

we were dancing by the silver moon

under the drained lake//