Even from this distance I could go out
the door it would bang shut and crumble

The sin is existing.

I am not a guide
for every traveler
of loss.

Now that the Israeli has left, it falls
on me to make the salad.

I suffer visions and many indignities
while looking for the Lobster

you quit wearing pants
loaf around your yard
in hole-nipped panties

We stop doing dishes while
a mile unwinds
from the tree outside.

my love is a glass shard, a knife made of madness and moonlight,
and there are already way too many fragments in this house

the man is stayed bent over the canvas
of my sofa. the man is me the man is him
self and I bring down the whip…

I don’t
know why
I’m in the garden
kneeling on dirt

we drove on through
the blue seal of morning as the turbines
turned and winked out their hearts

my friends’ fathers are
dropping
I mean dying
like flies

and then her eyes fully opened — blazed through with strands of mud

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time