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‘Don’t be Sad it Ended, be Happy it Happened’

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Love letters to the  

house on the moon 

always Return to Sender, 

so we dress Monroe as an astronaut 

and tell her ‘go find our sky diamond’ 

 

My mind flowers on the stalk 

she holds in marble hands 

but broken glass of framed 

photographs can kill a man; 

like fragments of Dead Sea Scrolls 

twist within the wrist 

 

Once upon a woman’s body 

after pencil skirt had risen beyond womb – 

cutlery of clit, stationery and words – 

wrote abstractions in lipstick ink 

 

And I knew what would 

sleep beside me in the tomb 

 

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