These Two Now Starve for Sky

July 7, 2003

Type: discussion

Stinging these chemicals from my eyes
with such soft hopes as wasps leave
in pumice and syrup trails, grinding light
until I can see clear through noon. Oh,

I do love you, packed in your new needed
shell, but I'm lonely for you, stitching
your words which you believe with
assumed large hands, jewel-eyed

clear through me to rotting cave. I struggle
to stand in this room, the dead and
passed still fucking me; you too

escape growing around this route. There are
two of them trapped between the screen and
window, and I'm too afraid to let them in.

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