ever?

I look for you
in separations,
the hop skip
of telephone lines,

that breathless pause
between the moment I
press the brakes
and when they engage,

in the moon
and in the sun.

Absolute

I wish I could say
that I am sometimes
the shrill rush of the ringing phone
and not always the
hollow-gut silence.

It's not always easy
to rearrange the furniture
in such a way
that no one is able to
face each other.

You are never free of violence.

Without Answer

We are a collection,
threadbare.
A body torn apart.

Without answer,
the question is unbuttoning
skinny jeans and layers of shirt.
The sound of running in place,
fingers in my mouth.

Delving, submariner,
until the room is coated
in quiet.