Secret thoughts like raindrops
on the rings of Saturn,
things forever lost
float into mind
on rivers of golden words
written with budding lips,
scribbled by satirically serious fingers,
or pounded with mechanical keys,
portable, painful, with ribbon tedious to thread.
My darling Olive
with your boxy frame,
sky white skin
and sticky fingers.
how methodical and slow
our fighting dance.
How joyful
the new agonies that await us.
Joyful new crimes, joyfully jogging type bars, joyfully resisting
joyful beneath
Shuddering, trembling,
flowing over with sweat and bullshit.
Pulling men to flame
ripping off their wings
Ripping men into
meandering, lost thought vehicles,
perpetual machines of confusion and shame.
Ripping men into ribcages,
pulling at the sinew
until we actually have become moths.
Flesh turned inside out
With the smallest words imaginable.
Men slunk to sand
With the smallest words imaginable.
Determination set to dust
with the smallest words imaginable.
Women shredding men into typewriter ribbons,
with the smallest words imaginable.
“I Hate You”
pulling cupboards out of walls,
breaking bathroom faucets,
“I Love You”
pulling the skin off
like socks.