look at what we whisper in
swift conversation, the eggshells
of histories, eye-
blink translations. decipher
the howling enigma,
stain of my tattered
flesh, heart, soul, the permeable
membrane of I,
me without
anyone
else. me without
your shoulder and saphire
stare. without your vintage
ties you wear. rooks and tangerine
diamonds. you collect them justbecause
you crave to be
distinguished or unfringed,
gathered in the irises
of eavesdroppers. you collect
me. coffeetable paper,
mound of imperfect
poetry,
incongrous nouns we sit,
agreeably.
