The ulcer of your absence is hot and
Thrumming with pain.
Like a heart as it hiccups the pulse.
My next death is the relief. It comes.
Here the world is like a sea, and bright, bitter
As a kiss from you after you've just eaten fruit. It feels sweet though the memory hurts.
I have you here, my tongue swirling against the air.
The tear is the salt of the Earth.