after a conversation
Shirtless marathoners phantom past
The window where everything loses
Where evening tosses wet hair
Over the backs of the sofa cushions
& the final squib of sunlight
Capsizes the offices
As night shrinks down
To some plasticky hot
Pink ribbon impinged to my neighbor’s
Eaves upon a nailgunned nail
What do I call it? Visited-by & dainty?
Piercing tongue that text messages I am
The meat-eating translator of memory
God must convince to become Meryl Streep ?
Even my guilt is tired
A pink bra strap, I slink on
Then off again god’s shoulder a little
Little. Each skin mine
A little more.
Petting the ventricles of the smooth myth
I haven’t yet made of myself. Today, I am trying
On breathing, today, today, through