mourning period

if only my mourning could just last a morning
bright the sun like a splash of blood on cotton pants
with tear-blurred edges I see it softened
as it sears salt wounds within my chest

I realize how much

I love the city when

in bouts of nighttime

music it

gives me inspiration

my sneakers against

subway tile

thudding I emit a fuck

before I realize my train

is pulling in not 

pulling out a bobbing

head a black shirt hug

the joy of seeing someone

you did not expect

to tunes that make

me laugh in their

cleverness the joy

of shooting across a 

bridge in a city

of lights

I watch you from afar
leant against a wall or staring down intently
and revel in the power I have
to approach you
to draw brightness to your pupils
to make words rise to your lips
soft and foamy
like champagne bath bubbles
I feel your palms encircle me
and we press against a wall together
and stare intently
(as if to read each other,
as if to soak each other in)

eulogy

I want it to be known,

your stomach carved from marble under window 

light, your body in a doorframe with

expectant eyes, like stained glass 

behind pains there are flickers, jolts of falling 

sleep, your visible pulse, the curve of an inner thigh 

like a wind washed shell, I wait to be robbed of all remains.

eulogy

i.

for the way the curve of your

stomach looks when light cuts 

across it from your window

like marble

ii.

the joy of your body in a doorframe

expectant 

with waiting eyes

iii.

stained windows

lighting the candles

behind stained

window eyes

flicker

iv.

your jolting manner of falling 

asleep in jagged

spurts your visible

pulse the curve of

an inner thigh like a wind 

washed shell

v.

wanting to stay in a state of perpetual

motion to nowhere in particular

vi. 

staring with abandon your eyes closed

vii. 

staring with abandon your eyes open

viii. 

the box under my bed

bursting with time

will give up, wither
eventually