Wednesday, November 19, 2014

A necessary shadow

The lace glued to the mason jar-- inside, a flickering
desire. Outside the blue stretches
over and above: skin on a drum-- slick and asking:

             how I once sent words through clouds to you, asked if I could
             write you letters. You never answered and in that silence--
             your answer like an arrow shot into the sky, hit some place
             I keep unseen--

the dog burrows beneath covers, licks the same spot
on my foot over and over-- the way I can never stop
thinking about you-- you, between my ears-- you
when my eyes open I have shaped you over and
over-- you: ghost-clay wedged into crevices of thought,
you bend, warm into wrinkles, into skin-wilting
as is promised by time, I kneed through you
over and over-- your eyes
the color of where that arrow shot, pierce through
the gap of years between us.


I have a lover now. She has seen my nakedness
and stayed. I no longer need your
fingers, your breasts, your undivided
everything but still, on mornings, you overlap
and I want to hate you for it, want to burn
you like a letter unanswered but you've done
nothing, you've done everything: you're a ghost/

you exist.