Lovers and wife’s lipstick
leave rouge palimpsest
across my funeral arms,
tell the mortician ‘I’m so over them’
and my neck still slips from the rope
If my fingers could pull strings from the sun
they’d strum guitar across your breasts,
could you feel my absent
hands in this midnight heat?
Billow your mind’s breeze
onto hotel pages,
where there is a room
with our names writ upon it
I’ve tried more than once to
bury my heart inside me,
sleep- quakes to keep me awake
strung shovels can only dig so deep
Typewriter ribbon binds wrists
cursors open legs so wide,
could it be, should it be
Gods of sensuality are waiting
In the silence of sleep
word’fall outside my window,
please come and drench my bed
