Drowning in it Each of the white flowers that fall from my bed Each of them fringed around my pillow for a time I couldn’t even look at them all Such gauze and framing Like I was to be laid out tableside Window warmth spilled in And I wanted you to hit me Water me, flowers beside, so as to deservedly drown Tied into so many knots as the wet wicker porch furniture I was so sick then When the sun rose I would wash And make coffee, and be your perfect little Pictureframe pr

Military Dream Tell me again what was overheard Through the door they forced open: Seeing the flesh within As boot heels scraped down dusty ramparts. It was an army man, as fake and plastic As any spine that bends so When men flex their fake and plastic hands. And there were the most beautiful dresses I’ve ever seen: they were crumpled up hastily under the cot— Each of us unmoored and sweaty without knowing why, Waking from the dream and thinking in your Big dog brain Was

Growing Fur When all of the little raindrop moments shed From my human skin like starlike shimmering– It seems that it’s always night when you and I meet– I turned thirty. Already I was seeing the future again, Between your lips, reluctant sometimes, Other times parted on me by your devouring teeth. I saw the fuzzy shapes of animal love. On those winter mornings, fog thick enough to obscure the houses but not the tops of trees, we came close enough To see the outlines of ea