Wet is the Day

wet is the day we
realize we've dripped entire
oceans of unending love
making sweat leaking slow
unnoticed
from beneath the nails
of fingers of the ones we love

wet is the day we
cry ourselves together again
cry the one across from us
full and back
into the pages of the
book that is bound
with what we bite off the tips
of our tears

wet is the day we
forget ourselves to the brim
of emptiness
at a skipping trot that likens us
to not leaving or
the thin strip of
absence cut all the way round a
dying tree

wet is the day we
suck the skin of our mouth
through interstitial ivory spaces
to remember the tongue there
last year this time when it
first fell frozen and melted

wet is the day we
are too dry for calling your water
to our eyes so
the day cries for us

Like Vapor

There is too much here to hold or say
blurred images of a thousand dead me
make this focal point

I didn't mean it, she misunderstood
really, I am worth loving
the old souls all say to me – what is your part?
And there, behind the fog, is the friend who always is

All my pains converge at the edge of my skin
this city presses in upon my throat
get this fist out of my mouth
out of my mouth

There is too much here to hold or say
I am we am all
here where the dust leaks
where the wind demands a parched speech
where this body disperses

Inhale my vaporous death
Respire what could have been