| She’s one colossal failure to
embody heart & misery,
or misery vs. heart. Either way, she isn’t how
I intend to love. Or should I explain what she is?
I’m freaked by a hallway, alarmed by a razor,
named anything, & fear never equals any linear
She doesn’t either. Or should I account for
what she does?
The measure of a life to be forgotten.
The timed-out motions of approaching death.
A head in blood on top of a desk.
The bullet that enters behind
the ear. The shot’s echo through
concrete walls & open doors.
Is it the rain that falls all day?
Or is it sunny, & does the sky insist
the matter is decay? She does.
Or should I explain what she doesn’t?
When, at last, will there be union?
Failure might be her view-- this way.
It might be mine-- that way. It’s not our pleasure,
& it’s no future obvious to me. Yes,
distraction’s the fury, & it leans against