A song lodged in memory
Its beat far too familiar
A sound like a sound to want to stop knowing
Heaving frond: breath of a palm tree
Against morning’s buzz glow
The panes of that window begging for a palm print
Historical, your laugh
Like a busted flute, my grin
Shiny healthy crazy: a bastard, his lover and pouring rain
Three even steppes, the molding
White outside, rotten on the inside
Corners that would grope if not immobile
The swamp of a kiss laid bare
Tooth marks skimming at bed’s edge
Tousled hair beneath fingernails, hostage memoir
“Welcome,” a his voice;
“You’re,” a hers;
Him. And. Her. And thrice, misappropriated romance a body-seeker.
