I went out searching for you,
a leaf the color of gold among the rubble of the modern dusk.
I kept you in a pocket lined with lead, don’t die on me.
two thousand eleven, doubled up and down
a corridor leads me in two directions, tugging my sleeves.
You’ve punished me far too much for things
I did or did not do, can you not see? my heart is pure
gold like the sun that no longer shines.
twin eyes, mine and yours, you two inches above
how is the view from up there?
can you see my house? the bed where I met you
every inch covered in salt and the musk of death.
poison, foolish me, I drank every drop,
hung on every last word. The hospital removed each one,
like bullets or shards of glass.
I still bleed when it’s about to rain.
each time a light flickers outside, I whisper
“is that you?”
greeted only by distant thunder or the occasional
gust of wet wind, I roll over
you were never real.
