Words sometimes
settle between thighs.
Eye up—all night
think how I don’t your
shoulder brush, cough
don’t, you away, leg.
I don’t acknowledge your
mouth when you’re talk
-ing, how can you? Talking
such silence
between an affect.
Sounding pangs liquid
off every windshield
tears the sky open.
Tears, tears. Tears
flesh like zipper
like soft adjutant
in a word-swept womb.
You reach for a bottle
and I want
to stay
your hand with mine.
