[I am kneeling at the fountain]
I am kneeling at the fountain, kneeling at the railroad
maxim. I would have rather been a drink of sunlight, but that would mean
submitting the world to a shadow vacancy, losing sight of your eyes among
the smoke trains. When we speak, we use a mayday tongue, riddle our secrets
through vermouth & flame. Last night, I kissed the rim of your cocktail
glass, let you see my torn, gray lips. You fished out a flask, flashed
the garrote in your pocket. We shuffled to the debtor’s hovel, huddled
ourselves beneath the grates & waited for the technicians to arrive
with their eyeglass murder. I held your hand so hard the blood
broke out like school children. The intruders lectured each other
on gasbag vaccinations as whispered through our hair, a dozen
unseen flowers bloomed in the ink, right up through the vacuum
formed through the touching of our foreheads. My knees ache.
I’ve been searching for this everywhere. Everything smelled
delicious. Everything smelled delicious & nothing hurt.
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