- For Bella

Nouns get sick and die -


ill, as the arabesque
simplicity of love

I watch it shift like the light -

like each swollen sunrise,
unremembered, though prophetic
in my mind,

like the grey teeth of nightingales
caught between your lips,

like the clean howl of our kiss
underneath the withered white
of midnight.

The decay is sudden, as the
shifting of one thought to

in a mind trained for forgetting.

The loss of it is stagnant, repugnant
spasms curl across my eyes,

I crumble
before you;

I do not cringe -

Nouns (unnamed)
destroy and lie,

but not us.

Things evaporate (sizzle
along the tongue of materialism)

Places reform (breakable
in the hands of humanity)

People disappear, and die.