—IF I’M A BROKEN RECORD, WRITE IT IN THE DUST

                                                dolphin love

i lose you    in winter melon soup    under a broth of cloud cover    ginger slices floating    where your    eyes once did    no chance for extradition    the weight of absence and imbalance    prepping a slow fade    to nowhere    i find a hairline    fracture in the china    resembling lost nerve    my spoon clanging    like a warped    church bell    swinging lonesome as    a weed in concrete     streetlight shining down    awaiting an answer    or your reappearance    which never comes    even a shallow joy    could get me    through tonight    suspend and arrest me    the way you’d laugh    like a dolphin in love    you said    i may be a cancer    but    i’m never getting it    fuck that    i’ll smoke when i want    there’s too much life left    too much     you and me left    but now the stock is    cold and congealed    a sump for suckers    and non-believers    while you are    parsing the ether tubeless    hospital gown rotting    in the dirt    i can’t eat    think    breathe    correct    for the record    my bones are also dust    heaped in your   old ash tray    waiting for the next    hard breeze    to blow