I looked for you

with blunt knives and forks,

and dull silver backs of spoons,

assumed you’d appear,

wearing white,

a milk sweet bride,

a communication; laced and corseted.

You did not.

 

I pulled a pair of sleeves apart,

the frays of wool, fly trappers,

and nuzzled,

it made me think of itching,

and your face in the heat;

arachnid humid circles of sweat,

more machine

I took than man.

 

I bit my tongue

and read the meat;

showed you the living day

of me.

It felt stupid –

You didn’t even shrug.

 

I drank a lot.

Osmosis was,

and felt; two likes

to trickle through me.

It seemed that you would make it stop,

seeing me wade with split fine fins,

but you did not.

My heritage was asleep.

 

It was when I kept my heart still,

I felt the black nothings

of heaven,

the closed speck complete,

and evanesce like a tear.