You come in broad daylight
To make love to me
To get a refreshing taste
And leave
with an unfinished story

At night
You pour yourself on me
Your sticks like fingers
Your chain like arms
Wrapping around me
Leaving
its love marks

Let the beauty and pain of the world spill over the coffee table and onto the floor.
Use the raw materials to construct a reason-
a reason for why my mother tells me
what her grandmother told her:
"Like cream you will rise to the top".
Make something of yourself out of the chaos
and jagged edges of the world.
Let the bits and pieces of reality loose
to align in nothing but piles and small bits.
Then tediously right all wrongs,
in steady and purposeful motions,
until you are but dust and granules yourself.