An Afternoon

An Afternoon


Document: a portrait crumpled in the brush of night
Anger, the belly is smooth, tempting.
Before the bed: a corset of blankets,
You undo my laces.

And rising all the time on
Tip-toe,
I am old enough.

Or, we were old enough
transiting love longer
the bleep-bleep of telephonics
and flesh games, a space in which
I am forever seeing myself.

Brighton, Michigan.

When
enough of you is
Seen
Launched
Festooned
In the coffin of sky,

Lavender shouting
names of the dead,
(the suicided before
birth)
jumping from cars
high-speed and wailing
in the tall summer grass,

you found yourself
knees smashed into the
carpeting,
beggar words gurgling
from your mouth

while in the next
town over,

all the farmers
slump in their chairs,
(now suburban)
hacking up memories
or lives.

The ADD of buying
Of selling of breathing
Flecked all over your face.