[Polaroid of]
O this is so painfulthe open concave of my broken heartthis boundary-less bordera kind of abandonment momentin resurrect.
I remember how your lipsfeel on my handwhen you kissed—a whole worldand nothing else.
Today the workers in their workgo. Cars sound. Sirens.A whole world.
A rooster outside who is confuseddoesn’t know the timeand wants to do his job well.
I seize from sleep weepingand in the weepinga cluck for every sob.
Is it morning is it morninga horn, your lips,an absence so immenseit swallows & swallows & swallows.
Face the day with me anyway—see—what it brings.
[Polaroid of]
You saywhen I thinkof our relationshipit comes in flashes of hotstreaks of warmthand if I movetoo close I will burn
Outside a field of pink tulipsI snip 5x5 untilmy whole kitchen…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, November/December 2024