variations of the same

evening wiles

the corners of your eyes have
turned black
something like khol and
evening
where underwater movements
make your face
shiny
fluid
glass bound in silence
air bubbles held with tired resistance
and words mouthed
like gaping wounds
hello, you say
turning to me at midnight
your skin sheetlike and sleepy
make me angry again
you tell me
muffled fragments like crumbs
i pick up from blankets and feed you
eat those words
i sign to you with forefinger and thumb
let me count the ways
i hate you
wrap me like a movie
it wont take that long







october continues

"oh," I said to myself
while we mingled with acrobats on larkin
his cazals have sent rainbows
to shop windows
and im busy putting hairpins, tigers eye and velvet,
behind my ear-we forgot to smile
on the walk to our apartment-I was
distracted by his hand upon my face
a bum is passed out on post street
holding a book close to his chest
like a loved one
we take a nap under
paintings, graffiti and oil
my face is stuck to his arm at 4 o'clock
and I read the paper
the times
while he brews coffee
heart beating irregular
and mild
isnt it funny to be here again? isnt it funny
that "here" is as temporary as
your goodbyes?