howling loveless yelps into the corner of her eye while she's away,
some ghost of a neck-thin pulse.runs a chill down to her toes-
fingernails scraping good red lines down her arms

we stay up all night just to read you
you wear down your whetstones.
we stay up all night to hurt our eyes with bright bedside-

i wish i had a better word for you

a finger for a dead piece of glass
heads drifting side to side for insects caring down the sheets.
and on the wall there's light

but
these tongues you've had taste like old neighborhoods,
stolen shopping-carts sent through puddles that fill up the side streets,

dressing down to the sound of rain.