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Description
I want to force your distinct, distant body against mine
but you are like a castle of salt, a far away wave exhausted with terror,
a rabbit in Night's thorny terrain.

can I forgive your animal trespasses and become a fish,
or unbroken beam tethered to the dusk when you are most vulnerable--
a wet and upright tree--when you coat me with your
protective sap and my sleep is chased into my throat by wolves?

Who is this man rumbling next to me in the dark nest
of a dream and where does he makes HIS nest of hair and bones,
of the hollow twigs of my desire tossed about by the wind?

sometimes I do not believe in love,
do not believe in the tenderness brought by the day,
but only in the hard animal-like pain of connection and rupture,
beasts that swim in the sea, the lotus-eaters of lore.

I want to forget the extension of my wound
in your body and in the constellation of your hair.

I hold this wound like an oyster--
delicately away from you and the light on my frame-less bed.
and now I am drinking a bottle of wine
and recalling the harbor and fort of my aloneness,
strength in dizziness, the bluish desire to wander the day tomorrow.