how to begin a poem
when the subject no longer exists?
so your fatalistic penchants, pretty gin-soaked boy,
taste of snow and apples on my tongue. so you
darkened my freckles with a felt-tipped pen
and rewrote the constellations. so you
swallowed the moon as it swayed wanton hips
across the river’s skin. so you
dropped fogging pennies each morning into my palm.
your old copper face, round and freshly bearded,
t-square arms akimbo, thin chest mirthwrought—
and I, gardenia pulsepoints, curves and seastrand arms
coiling around a womb emptier, purer than seas—
how to begin a poem
so you
