entropy (draft)

The night the windows all crash

in their frames, I’m not the shambled



aftermath or the boy-girl order.

The spaces between us are not spaces



at all but a thousand blue flowered

nightgowns. You haven’t yet learned



to discern the shape of things according

to your tongue. Heavy cumulus hang



the sky like sheets from a line

and entire alphabets go missing.



In the dark, a woman’s teeth

flicker on and off. We’ll decide



who’s leaving by scientific method

and the rule of light bulbs and iceboxes.



My skin allows enough lumen for the boxwoods to glow.

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