If my life
had a wife she’d be drop dead –
Laugh at
folly, scream toward an indignant
reprieve
during e[r](l)ections, wilt in stalls
while I
gathered her into my thin arms
Maybe muse,
maybe accident, a[muse[d
by tHe
primordial ooze of giving,
being given
tO, lost in sens(i)ation,
move-over-ness of a[lone in the world
I’d writhe in
her writhING… circumspect mu
and Ma, and
re-navigate the locus
of
howtobecome. We’d be lovers first,
friends
second, parents third, dashing forthwith(sss)
If we’d
planned anything, I’d be our loss[es]
in each other
of the other. mistake.[n]