aubade knowing you hate photographs
Because you have a body this memory has no sound.
Was it because perfection is a myth or was it fear
of capture? I can only use one sense at a time. The pills
I take remind me to take other pills. Sometimes I know
things without thinking. When you fall asleep against me
it is a different kind of breath. Grasping your hand is one
way to be alive. I take it. I wish you asked for more
than to be held correctly. You’re too pretty to not have
everything you want. You want to raze this world
& I want everyone to be as kind to you as you deserve
—are these the same? This morning, as you slept,
I faltered at the doorway & thought of everything
I wish I could change for you. It’s unbearable,
the way the light hits you perfectly & I let it.
death asks what i’ve been doing with my hands