The yards grow ghosts. Between the limbs and wings,
bleached street-lit things, I’m best at moving on.
Hunt-heavy, gray, slunk overlow like so
much weight got in the way, my shape’s the shape
of something missed, flash-pop or empty frame.
Though you could say I’ve made a game of this,
and though midtrickery it might be true,
when evening lingers in the key of leaving
my senses swoon. A synonym for stay,
I’m always coming back. I chew through traps.
I love whatever doesn’t get too close.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways:
1. autonomy 2. elective howl 3. showed teeth
4. used the veto 5. with hello 6. a wet economy
7. clothed 8. two-tone 9. elusive 10. the way home
11. at home 12. coveted 13. until we see how 14. hotly
15. steely hot 16. on leave 17. with too much weed
18. two (loosely) 19. dew theme 20. in vacuo 21. the the
22. tentatively we 23. somehow 24. the loud echo
25. the détente 26. touchily 27. a wholesome vow
28. the old way 29. cue the wolves 30. the emotion
31. semidevoutly 32. how we once 33. at the hotel
34. wholesale 35. too mute 36. in the towed Chevy
37. when woe lets me 38. to the void 39. oh acutely
40. sweetly 41. moved out 42. alone 43. with the echo