Into Your House

Cool my body in the river, rejection
is a ring around my little toe. Big strides
across the flood of summer,
rake figs of wanting I budded
into mounds.

How careless of me to fall in love again
when I’ve not a heart to wander back in.
Beat pale phosphorescence a naked shape
sculling rhythmic over stones.

In the heat
I’ve moored,
I’ve cried

and two rooms adjacent
silent sign runic alphabets in the night.
So it is the placid winter that hefts its rolling self
over the skin of sunkissed sidewalks
quails in a thermal,

no gelid breath as laughless as you.
I crown like a babe into your house.
Here, if you could, raise your gun

to bang and bare me up.
Or the other: please don’t do
whatever it is you do.

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