with bones on fire and eyes like haze
i'll remember you, Giza in my stomach's pit and
your calligraphy present beneath blacklight,
forever- i've husked to be your Tut's tomb.
you'll remember how you taunted cumulus clouds to the edge of the earth
and, on your three-hundred, sixty-fifth day of sunlight,
never forget to miss how it cleansed your throat when you inahled.
i'll always remember the places i marked you mine with torment,
you'll only ever remember when you go to the river and it's low.
nostalgia will be the bookkeeper for every dew-drop and sink-trip,
the perfect imprints of my thumbs on your chrome; i hope you
live a life of love,
haunted by every path and groove and maze of the dunes in your dreams, and
know i'll be buckling someone else's
boots for our hike through fog and rain
and it took me forever to stop wishing it was
you.