THOUGHTS OF AN AFTER ACT




Let us pose for a this moment

To think about the whole moment

Turn it around with a fork

This fanatical reading of my life

This after thought this relishing

What it was we did together

And spilling myself over the side

Of this bed where you and I were



It frightens me when he wakes up

His toes are like interesting sticks

That will hide inside his shoes

The way they hid from me.

When he decided not to come again

And be the one who sidles

In this lonesome feeding of my being



Nothing seems to matter to your curly head

Your hair uncombed his beard forming

The mirror the man with the lean hips

Is stranger than the loan bin that I

I throw my remains in daily



Who said I would ever know my grief

When somebody is standing in my world

Looking at himself in a mirror

Where half of my body is looking

Its eyes searching for the parts of me

You failed to see when you were close



What is fake begins fake and ends fake

My mother used to say I should know

How to undo what is for what was not

Yet here I am not knowing that she was right

For what will become of the foreheads

Between which were words

That eat and open the deep

Where my not knowing lies.



My mirror self, my divided me

Sits up on the bed with the half

That was hidden from you

And wonders which part of it really works

When I am done with this punching

Of the thought that I clasp into one



Like my thighs closing

To their own loneliness.