How long will you sit there?
Cavities, your type of trophies from wilder days, the forgettable kind
Rutting between hills of lifeless grey flesh
Moist as the dust that stood to search (unsuccessfully) for fresh light

Nothing moves anymore
Even the 41, Guyanese invertebrates
Learned you long ago
They wait, tire

Sometimes before the hours tip, I hear you, or try to
You play the dances in your head
Just like swallowed tangos and serenades for mama
She always said you could sing

I fought for the top of your feet
My place, where my toes gripped wrinkles in your smile
Pulling me down, down past moonless flights
Yet no such pedestal stood

Mid-yawn, we breathed in springtime
I left a piece for you, buried deep in an injection
I lost my crown that day
My heart anticipated the warmth of melting snow

I'd cover furrowed brows in blue ink, sometimes black
Grinning under the blotting
Recipes for tomorrow
Words I beg to forget