you dressed me all in
white which is nice because never
before did i have a
color.
it was a crash, a caught-you, your
serbian moon settled over
me like a cloak like
dust like space-time
fabric and your
foam bubbled to my
skin in the adriatic
sea. i am a mosaic
of shattered coffee cup china and
white lines painted on a tennis
court in vermont and the snow
that buried me when you drove
away the last
time
i come to you in
white i am sent away in
white
like your moon that settles on my
shoulders like the fog the
smoke you cannot see that
rests on the lake in the early
morning like the flecks of
paint that flutter onto my
desk when i thumbtack a new
photo into the wall
do you know what it’s
like to be sent away in
white