When Suddenly Spring Sprang to Mind

Exactly at the prick of dusk your folded arms

Broach the middle of the room and laughingly

You say it’s a terrible thing to feel love blistered

And peeling on a wall you say once we were

Still happy-go-lucky ukuleles more treacherously

Intimate than the wind’s hurry through an empty

House the whole sky’s rush toward night you say

Tonight the moon is a clenched fist O what I say

What have I ever won by the blurry courage

Of my bloodshot penis? what have I gained

By pitying all the yawners who never once

Squeezed mystery from a succulent moment?

Love’s a disease that will never be cured of us