11: Who


I imagine careless throats


I can no longer still be I

to have  been bitten without love

once found in drawers and ink spilled notes

now cast to teeth and careless throats

bruises the colour of old jam

the shape of a map contained continent.
Though I’m unsure that I was one

who existed in just the grass or sun

I trace the corpse’s absence of

I have been bitten without love.

In exhilarated darkness or half light

desperate fear of desperate night

I look for you where I am caught

hear the phone ring when it does not.
But to further try to fault

the time we spent with us or not

is all but to ignore the sign

that you were there but were not mine.


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