2.
On a bathroom floor in
Europe, anonymous and white,
I threw myself down between the shower and
the door.
There were voices in the other room:
. . . . did
you hear?
My soul is lost somewhere above the
Atlantic Ocean;
I think it slipped out in a dream, it must
have –
Usually I'm careful with it,
. . . .
so damn careful…
Another morning arrives within a swarm of
clouds,
And stomachs carved hollow, and the crackling
dread
That snaps at my ankles daily, and you…
. . . .
I
am so sick without you.
(notes: please ignore the punctuation used to put in indents. QuickEdit is a bitch.)