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messiness
to love is messiness
(for no star is composéd
of moulding, and i cannot
mould you for mine, my darling)
(for you are the star of the
black black night
and the And of my heart
and the light sun splitting the
curtain
to touch
your cheek—
bodies spilling
like secrets, pool
beneath the purple silk
of eyes, yours and
hands, mine
instability as the door
that opens to fro
and sideways because
to love is directionless
(cascade)
your laundry
all over the floor
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