Markets, Perfidy
i.
Speaking at though the adjectives at the back of his throat were not shocked
by the tenor of his beautiful face,
duplicity is a supple
entanglement, the slope of my
neck when turned
toward you,
the conversation, creeping like
wisteria over the hypnotic color
of lovemaking in the bright light of
mid-day.
ii.
And his voice, I aught not forget his voice,
the soft thrumming, the way
the sun set behind him at the table
in the bar.
iii.
the way his face changed, speaking
of coastal elongation, the flooding
of a sliced eyeball; we are a year's
worth of disclosure now,
speaking through the verbs at the tip of your
tongue
still shell shocked, from this day
to the next.