remember? i dreamed about
this kind of bliss but now in the pulled-
apart strings of my
heart there is only
a dull long ache and the aluminum
footsteps of heart-burn
coming up from my chest like
a foreign man crossing over
my seven boarders his hands
still wet.
remember? we were going to take
the world i woke you up in the morning
with my eyelashes already
inside your stomach and your white
shoulders showing lasciviously
above the blanket your tongue
curled in my ear
like a cat’s; i know you better
than anyone i know you like a future
freudian memory a lovesong in my gut
that has not happened.
the last pavilion 