I picture my night to align with what you say
in the most wretched of ways
I sublet, my space, my apartment
to live next to an anthill i built
with uncertain rage and worrisome wonder
at the power of inanimate things
that float and sink
at the surface of feeling.
All the myriad dreams, all the myriad houses,
built over half a dozen senses
while she watched, over my shoulder blades
lips locked, like viking shields
and hands,in hands
the future of many moons decided
with coffee and caramel, sipped
at leisure, over balmy summers
on our neighbor’s borrowed sheets.
Our palms were greased,with sweaty
deniability of unspoken love.
You believed, I swayed
You said, I thought
We were all children
of sinful starts, of unruly winds
onto tall trees, with fickle leaves.
I watched, while you sang
I stood, while you ran
through the forest road
I called after you
I called your name
I called my name
we were two, we were one,
we were both begun,
we were both undone.
Alas! the summer always ends
and with it the nights of waiting
for you to knock, then repent
then to stoke a fire
until it burns, and you burn