I wake
and it lingers...

There’s a spot.
An insect in my eye...

I am hovered in the
fragile breath of spring...

O-
it aches...

With you there is respect
for the nothing new...

For weeks or months-
(its all the same...

I scrub and scrub
but still the blood pours down...

Toil endlessly
for that sharp second of pleasure...

If my breath extends for far too long
I ask you to strangle my mortal song...

You are two.
Yes...

The leaves are stiff
with winter’s breath...

There stared bold at me
the light...