notice the convulsed orange inch of moon
perching on this silver minute of evening.

We’ll choose the way to the forest—no offense
to you,white town whose spires softly dare.
Will take the houseless wisping rune
of road lazily carved on sharpening air.

Fields lying miraculous in violent silence

fill with microscopic whithering
…(that’s the Black People, chérie,
who live under stones.) Don’t be afraid

and we will pass the simple ugliness
of exact tombs,where a large road crosses
and all the people are minutely dead.

Then you will slowly kiss me

There's a cave in my heart,
And it echoes while I sigh.

I expected someone else
to fill the hollow, when they'd
hold me while I slept. But I lay
alone at night, with the cavern
gaping wide.  I wrap my arms
around myself and try to hide
the cold draft blowing through
my chest, but I let my arms
fall,

and lay awake knowing that
no one else can make this pit
vanish.