Gray clings, gritty, to tongue,
teeth, gums; sticks like paste,
like hunger, like emptiness
given filmy form, absent of
substance.
Yet heavy, now, how it won't
let me forget what it's like
to taste you, tame you, fill
my mouth, my chest with you.
Weightless where you danced
by the window, so brilliant
& gilded--rendered bland
with spit & imprisonment.
For my friend on the occasion of her wedding. What I know of mirrors is their imperfection, their imbalance of mathematics: one reflects one, & we imagine this is wholeness & we believe we know oursel
For my friend on the occasion of his wedding. No eye for art, you said, and turned toward Hunger, livid color leaving you cold, neither keen, nor compelling, not enough, not when you already know how
It is not Death that watches us with suspicion, yet you invoke Her name anyway, make of Her a boundary, make of me an earthen intimacy. There is no revelry in roots no matter how deep they run, only f