i don't see where you come from, but as I hit the corner
or thereabouts, anyway,
there you are. a flurry of people,
and you're within them, struggling against the throngs:
a wingless bird against the current,
feathers tousled by the unfamiliar waters.
just how i'd imagined you returning to me:
your face tilted upwards,
tasting the air.
your skin is browned with the sun's lips.
a n d t h e n
the air tightens between us; it's a continual pulse
of contractions, expansions, a drum beat -
and our eyes meet, and it softens, it's
the languorous, mellow smoothness of a string melody
ascending in flat plains, then slowly dying,
expiring in the thinness of the breeze.
our eyes meet. god, I remember
when that would have seared through me, a long and aching
flame of love and discontent and pain and loss and greed -
now it rather melts through me, or you do,
you're the blood of me, warm and slick, falling
through my composition. tear tracks. a single note.
it's been years since I loved you, and since you left them
the way he left me, turned to the bottle
the way he did.
and I watched you, darling, I watched you crumble with
my own kind of avarice, the need to see something human
the way I never could in him
because he didn't let me. and so, really, it was me
and everyone else who just watched -
we killed you,
we buried you,
we fed you to the worms:
it's warm and your skin glows like gold in the light;
but your eyes reduce me to