To say it is
or isn’t. To be a toothless
cuntless godless
ghost. You ask the
questions
whose answers
make the whole night
& next morning
flaccid. If I could love
a stranger
half as much
as I want to cripple
your words I would leave myself
for the blue man holding
roller skates at the end of the block.
Don’t ask me yes or no.
Don’t ask
what’s in a steady moving
hand. A hand’s
hungry pulse. Ask yourself
what wasn’t and what wasn’t
ever going to be.
Ask me how the grey shadow
of years I’ve lost
reclines across my lungs
like an immovable
cat kneading
soft tissue that never
heals or hardens.