You have this way of reeling me
out of my mind; like string unraveling,
you wrap my body around yours, whisper
anything from prolific verse to
grocery lists, and I press myself so
close to you that I become as thin as
paper, blank, awaiting your impressions
to fill me up, clothe me in the inspirations
you drive me to,

but, you do that with everyone, and you let me
watch you work a room, carve out girls like
clay dishes, unpainted, devoid of coloratura.

You've left your fingerprints on my poetry, and
like a ghost-whore I let dust collect on each of my
bookshelves, kept your thorny thumb prints on
the surface,


I refer
to their meaning
later on; the understanding
will come to me like a dream
slapping me out of sleep -

because you
are so full of metaphor,

I can't help but steal it, reuse it,
put you here

because here,
I can keep my eye on you always, and
you cannot stray.