graphite on paper
ink on vellum
marginalia, marginalia, the
marginalia of my life
(god – I’m such a narcissist)
the coffee ring on a napkin
the black wire against the white wall
snow and everything dark against it
the calligraphic mark
the shadow cast
the flickering celluloid
(Humphrey Bogart in silver
tones – where are you that
we need you now?)
the typewriter – the typewriter
how could they abandon the typewriter?
smoke and beautiful faces
braced against the cold…
---
the tongue
thick and straining
against
you
them
me
and my charred bones
ground to dust and ivory black
still hoping to find
what I lost at 33
---
with carbon stained lips
I came and found you there
or rather
everything that had been you
touching your face
and in that touch
a drawing made of my desire
on white cotton sheets
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This is a very nice lament as laments go. Yes, it's a very good name. Compact. Expansive. Like yes.
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