Close your body into -
mine.

It's 4AM and the rain is lashing
down, potholes in the sidewalk
swell from the weight of the
water

endless. The belly of a whale,
guts stripped back, open to the next
punch

why did I pick you? That sounds
like the choice of a gardener, an expert at comparing soil for the rate that a flower spreads

into you. I fell. Heart first and aching,
like the dull ache of a thunder headache, the knowledge that it will
soon clear when the storm comes

we held on hard. Through those
New York winters. We found that the
caverns of our minds were filled
with soft light

that we let flow over us. It is the yellow
seed of a rose that spreads into bloom,
tended by tender hands and allowed to keep its thorns, despite the danger they

hold. For us, careless pickers of hearts. Savage and ruthless, the delicate structure of blood

spills. Out of your mouth in the middle of a kiss. You gag. I scream. We dance out a scene. My pockets hold secrets of death, a small vial the eye refuses to linger

on. And on. It takes thirty minutes to bleed out and I count each one down with a passion you made me hide from
myself

on those nights where you held me down and took me, whispered in my ear with wine stained teeth. As I plotted and waited, waited, held my

breath as if it were made of pure gold. As if air were diamonds. I watched you shudder and take your last shake.

I took the rope from my gown and wrapped it round a tree we'd planted together.

At 4AM I kiss the shallow cheek of Death. A roar from the crowd. "More, more" but there is no

more.