My dear, dear wooden heart

A face I remember still on the Polaroid lens

Capturing musky sunshine and wheatgrass

Flushing seamlessly with your hair for it is the same color

As my bedroom walls

As my blood

As my lips, your lips, what we drew from each other

The color running through our tremulous chambers

Left paint on our teeth

My Revlon.

 

Oh my love

How unconsciously you tortured my generous arms

The black and blue

The rivets of salt water the fountain of youth.

Now maple syrup, amber eyes sings to me softly out of tune

Ever above me, always above me your cheekbones hide the moon.

We eat at a diner under a silent freeway

And I let you have my eggs

On your bed next to the propane heater

We tremble and lie still.

 

Still my pale palm searches the pillow for your tresses.

While I sleep my cheek feels the flutter of your lashes

While I dream I see you kneeling

You gaze upon your ivory tower

It’s chipped pedicure its corseted flesh

And I cry at the climax realizing I am only a fetish.

 

In the only photo of us we are sitting in a tree.

I am smiling.

I am happy.

Your face is covered with leaves.