A moon-shaped belly button
full with sweat
where i hung my tongue



where did you put that
poem i gave you?



I think you tucked it somewhere
in your bra,
and let the ink run
over your skin
that day it was too hot
for shirts.

You sat by the a/c
in your *******
and sweated out every
sin that god ever
created.



Right below our apartment
were the subways filled with people
in the tunnels where
the heat made the people want
to strip down to nothing.



I don't have to tell you about that day,
but i want to just in case I forget
and forget this final *******,
not to you,
but to those
underground rumblings
and tiny teeth of electricity
that flitted up through our bones

as though we were just tracks

of steel.

This love
was the thing running us over
grinding our skeletons
out to a mechanic thinness.



the day we said goodbye
we said it
with middle fingers.

You fell asleep, your arm
slung across my middle.
I stayed up with
a cigarette
and Good Will Hunting playing on TV.
You would shuffle around
in your sleep, but with every movement,
you kept your hand
curled around my belly.
Even in your dreams, you were
intimate.

I wiggled into a new position
at one point, and I
almost woke you up.
You startled–
mumbled something in your sleep.
Every word was
incomprehensible, until I heard escape
"I love you, baby."
And it was
brilliant– the innocence
that you sighed
in your slumber.

And I loved you.

The next day, you saw a bike,
***** yellow and
abandoned by its owner.
You straddled the seat and
rode in tight circles.
And all I could think was,
your legs are so skinny.
You were all
skin and bones, pedaling that bike.
All I saw
was you
naked.
More naked than you
had ever been.

And I didn't love you.

And she opened that window
And hands came out and dropped
A book of spells in my lap
And I lit another cigarette
Opened it up
Right there on your firefly soaked back yard
Reading about spells that could bend the whole world to what I wish
I shook my head and said no
Don't call me honey
Because real love never lasts
Things twist
And pull
The gears that hold you together
Somehow shifted
And i can see golden sunlight pour through
Window good morning
I fell asleep with you open last night
A praying mantis is having a battle with my fingers
And honey bees swim around the whiskey
Birds call and look like tiny painted toys on the deep blue
You could be
Are everything to me?
Put in my pocket for later
Forgotten
Like a soda tab
And a square head nail
A knife
A brass tack and a pair of pliars
My hands are cut and *****
Dried blood
Black spraypaint
A phone number written in pen
A single cigar burn scar

I've seen boys turn into men
   hands full of grenades
made of anger, of hurt of
cold
hard
beer
and smiles that could light-
no ignite
This cold heart of mine

I've known boys so steady
so calm
so sure
But they ended up dragging me-
along the cold hard pavement floor
Until I was nothing but a tattered corpse

They let me go
Like children do balloons
When my burdens grew too heavy
For the both of us to bare

I've seen boy's
-no men
With eyes so bright
so happy
so full of
life
I've known kids
so
so hollow
so empty

That even a rhyme couldn't describe
And I tell them to sit
sit down
and write it all out
But the paper grows damp
From the tears of their pens
And their poems unstructured
Their names but a blur

So now I know
I know
You can't tame all wild things
You cannot confine
Pain
To paper
As Pen to paper

pieces of you scatter
shower me
surround me
you've left me a puzzle of poetry
words in every corner of the room
left for me to put together
and my heart swells on its own
your essence clings to the sidewalks
which connect our neighborhoods
two planets with a city block between them
waltzing through space
spinning across the kitchen floor
and a kiss lands between them
orbiting like a satellite to its cosmic mother
no longer aimless
in a storm of starlight

far too nice outside
to be cooped up
in my cave
although
normally that’s where
you’d find me
the sun is out today
warming my face and
the bricks my bare feet
are resting on
it is spring time finally
and that means everything
is in heat
the squirrels are *******
the birds are *******
and i assume the reason
i hear so many dogs barking
is because they wish
they were *******
what a lovely season
spring is
with all it’s warmth and horniness
although i know
in good time
i will long for the cool weather
and warm colors of fall
as i always do
every year
if i could only just make up
my mind
that is
if i am able to find the **** thing