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.