Your name was on the blade that dug itself a passage into my gullet, crisp
and oh, so smooth that it tasted like blood with every ingestion. Push ever
more so harder darling, 'cause I'm wider than you think, like a favorite
ocean of yours: the Atlantic? Murderous, frigid, kidnapping water and waves.
We spent all night touching blades of pages, coloring in blues and yellows,
grays and salmonella orange. I held the light over your hand and saw your
nail polish, faded, tan, and asked if it'd be better that we shared the same bed.
Mine was a body of salamanders, and yours, blankets of flames. We sank either way.
And don't send me lyrics anymore, 'cause there's nothing anyone playing guitar
could ever sing that would change the way I closed my eyes, such tightness, it
took great strength, adamantine eyelids. Don't expect them to corrode in rain
or spring. They're like the dagger drawn down deep, internal and eternal and
internal and eternal and internal and eternal and internal and eternal and internal.
Honey, you are the bees, bullying other bees, buzzing wherever bees buzz these
days. And I've spent much too long plucking off bits of your wing beat, the beast
I am. Be surprised I haven't devoured your hive, your history, although we argue.
I threw rocks at your window pane with my unstable paws. No I never rubbed
against it. The wood barely bared my hunkering weight. I never rubbed the paint
off the wooded window pane. It must have corroded with the pattering rain. -but
would you notice anymore. -do your fingers peer the blinds first, for someone else?
The sky falls down and we are a part of it. We are at the scene of it. We are in the
sleep of it. Close your eyes and consummate lies, wetly disposed. Close your eyes
and consummate lies, secretly composed. Close your eyes and consummate lies,
photographically posed, like the blond, the blue, and all of your high pageantry.
