Sinking
the sheets were changed for spring,
I finally cut my hair and
you were still getting in my eyes
captaining a ship in a piggy bank;
each time the covers were raised above my head
to rock down like waves, I saw you
two years looking under the welcome mat
twisting skeleton keys into your pictures
to see if you’d ever let me in again
I’d rooftop pillowed bunkers overlooking your spine
dangle my feet like white flags in hopes that you’d return
whatever spoils sit under your constant sun
the intangible soldiers begging to return home
moments where you bowed like a toy boat left
out in the rain, asking to be kissed one last time
opened-mouthed, yawning iron giant in 1946
waiting to make a nation built on I told you so’s
I had lost more than the war that night in the rain
since then, you were
the distance, the silences, the lovely
drugs and the prods at reality they made
last night, like the zinc flash in our old portrait
I watched the drugs trade hands like a secret
how nice you were to that man when you gave you
what you and your body wanted
how you used to lick my edges and roll me up
but I was never that good. how much more
beautiful than any war monument this had become.
all this time building a hunger
starving with all the wrong cravings
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