you so wished to be different

and scrambled after her

that I was getting out of hand

no later than before

you watched through puffy lids, though not

swollen from heavy tears

an evergreen inequinox

and jealousy of stars

she was so eager to evade

herself yourself myself

she ran and chased away the shade

until the darkness fell

that was because of any sun

who so identifies

she called it love she called it un-

solicited advice

she rushed into a posthumous fight

the final fight with self

I called it fate so that I might

tell you to go to hell

she called it chair and chandelier

and chest of drawers and table

a wall between us rose as clear

as incoherent babble

not azure heat nor frosty glaze

where branchy shadows sprawl

but vessels of sanguiferous days

branched out above the wall

you called it broccoli and spud

you called it beets and chives

but you are bound to spill some blood

under whatever guise

and on the double-bottom night

I follow like a howl

behind the beast behind the fight

a soldier sans parole

the moon sleepwalks and full of blind

eyes, milky to the brim

shines on the words that stump the mind

on you yourself and him

down here there is no room for two

but you must make me thrice

don't trust your eyes I’m begging you

but wipe and close your eyes