Thrasher falls from a mulberry bush
I listen, agonizing thoughts of you, no longer sweeping
my landscape. Droning with the bird, I retch the monophthong
of English love, heart squishing through iron stencils, vocabulary scrubbing
my tongue to subjugate your nasal soliloquy. Verbiage, batman!
Your thumbs twiddle an echo through the cave from fear of my black vision.
Your eyes, quiet; your future, backwards: back out by the thread I’m tugging
at your waist and awaken to some blinding noise. Where went your companions?
I tell you to walk home through the dark churches.
Without you, as the moon rises and my bird’s bashed-in by an owl,
I sit with knees bent, dripping in the shower, under florescent light.
Later, I will mend together syllables to demonstrate my quest(ion).