static turns the TV screen into a grey overcast of noise/& the
stars know this kind of swoon/ how the tension of a tongue don’t
mean much/to a black sky//when i hold his hand to my chest/
i think/ he believes — i am the sky// so i say: i am the sky &
everything around me is smoke stained // the subway train is
running right now/ a lover is returning home late but still // &
nobody will sleep in the lover’s house/until the key kisses the
lock hello/ & the silence of a refrigerator hum/ or a library
book turning beneath the glowing husk// this is how most
hearts sing a murmur// this is why my heart whispers run// &
the moon wishes someone would wait/ for her to return to the
apartment/ & the moon is gracious & giving & who will hold her
when she nods herself almost awake/ exhausted & dilapidated
across town/into a too small pre-war apartment/ & the moon
cannot remember when there was a warm palm to wipe away
her tired////////////// the way she wipes away the sun’s bruised
setting/ every night the way the moon give her shoulders to the
light last night, the moon hummed/ i’ve been running from the
freedom of my own blood/ i know lonely . . . i know . . . i know . . .
i know . . . / because because because because because because
because because because because because because because
because because because because because because because
because because because because because because because
because because because because because because because
because because because because be////////////////////////////