[on the spot, from around 6 months ago]
we all live in the past, our impulses aren’t fast
enough to catch the moment after we ask-
or tell her, rather, that the last
breath i took was before i sank like a feather:
her iris coated my lungs and peeled the cracked cells like plaster.
her hand in mine
(one time lifeline)
taught from my dead weight,
lead weight. serpentine,
her legs choke me under,
elegant as always she satisfies my hunger.