I saw the way you felt hurt, the pain you
gave, the force in forgiveness—the inability to let go of the memory bank. such
pouring tears, throes of love’s fears, sacrificed, used, adored, begging more
pain. so captive to a thought, such weakness feeling human, as I come to find
you—memories, visions of hands, murderous cages, to die—if only one last gift. I
broke laughter, in mid motion, reaching before you leaped. so much a vandal
inside, so impure aside hells, words mean dung—the flame as proud, we’ve so
many lovers, so much indebted to fury—nothing is left. it comes to locate,
treachery, one watching, fumigating essence, blithe in a sentence. unthinking
you, a miracle in us, loving like distant marriages. I must be there, it gives
life, feeling at subzero—feeling like dung, giggling, nonetheless, tasting
climax—the feral funeral the framed future those arts at aches. been here
before, these are old grounds, we do well in pain. so much sloth, so much
greed, a smile, is a fragment—of terrors, from anxieties. I long for another,
you just swallowed another, we come together like aged nuns. the force of
precious cries, with nothing left, we belong to winds, us, fans, glands, or
stars. I can’t handle myself, a day with such fire, I loved another—we laughed
at anguish, we split in waves, we ended our night in foreign arms.
