Sunday, December 16, 2018

Small Acts



being there

absent

being here

AWOL

cold sheets crumpled

small ax chipping

away the last word

unsaid curses

speaking volumes

splaying fingertips

smack

one needle's

kissless breath

a death

a broken branch

brakes the cliff

as two strangers

across a room

clutch hands

almost

stepping off a Manhattan curb

taxi's concussive whooosh

you twelve feet behind

14th Street Union Square

a drop of blood

an aneurysm of ecstasy

the hot spinemelt of lava pleasure

purchased in vein

no dial tone

to text

my year of living dangerously

around the corner

around the bend

of a prisoned purse

pursued and purloined

before locking the door

after praying to

the dried rose

I once gave

her

you

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