you
we don't talk only
they
- touch you I
stay dressed
it is a close view of
my hands against your darkness
* * *
This does not work
I am soon betrayed and
soon beside you
I cut my hands off to
step back
but never far enough
this is no dream
they do as they wish
* • •
tonight , names mean nothing
I lean back to sleep
but am restless
hearing names
I rise and move to
touch an ashtray filled two
days ago a book a lamp anything
far from the
winifred-jane-john-peter-Iucy the
iron the coatrack I leave like the
slam of a door
* • *
The street comes up like a
slap as the stairs tumble
to the cement.
