I thought of your body

26 Feb

I. WHAT I MEANT TO SAY

 

is that I was mistaken in not taking the time

to forget you completely or fuck you to sleep;

 

I’ve been meaning to kill your father

but I lost my gun and money is tight;

 

the blood in my vomit is black—black blood

comes from the stomach— it’s the color of love;

 

I thought of your body the other day.

I was lying in a field. I was shooting at doves.

 

 

 

II. “JUST FUCK ME, IT’S FINE”

(BEFORE THE FUNERAL)

 

she told me her

father was dying

and her mother

had found a new

boyfriend in town.

she said my

lovers were just

like her lovers

strength always

in numbers—she

finds me in bed.

she said: shut up

and I’ll cry til

you’re hard yes

the body is dirt

but our fingers

are spades.

 

 

 

III. TOUCHING MYSELF

 

this clock ticks an alien time

my hands dance in sweat;

its been days since I smoked

 

friend said shit man just think about

porn, all that flesh rubbing flesh

and then your flesh on yours

 

saw a man today covered in blood—

a street-corner god

(one bored cop keeping vigil)

 

so I drank til my name went away

no sense to excess

said one dumbstruck survivor

 

 

 

IV. THE BED WE SHARED

 

is still

wet

with bouts of palms

 

and bloody compassion;

it’s ok,

Jane used to say.

 

I don’t mind the snoring.

I don’t mind the sweat.

 

Shhh,

she told my closed eyes.

And blew them open.

 

Said: taste me

and be proud.

 

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