You said, Or else
I will throw myself under a rock
in France and live there forever.
I said Try to be quiet, but not too quiet
or else no one will talk to you,
not hearing you talking.
There, I admire you.
I love you always.
I crave you here, right here I want you,
to have you now.
Betray is impossible while
I am full and you are all,
my mind in the present.
Like nothing, like formlessness, like bandaging
your eyes and putting you to sleep
one darkness in another.
I said, I not only loved you, I craved you.
Your knees’ broad caps under the table, tossing them
between my hands.
Then, a pinch, or was it a slow, double roll out
to the edge of the bed where the other can’t reach, I don’t remember,
but the next time I looked, everything was finite.
Already miniature, pop-ups
in a shoebox, quaking in heat waves from a flame.
A diorama seems loaded and mysterious because of its size, half-shell and symbolic potential, but it was a ghost.
And once again death became apparent.
Not only this but that, not only this.
I must have you, I must have said.
Or else I will die.