Such things
smote danger
from the pits of my chapped lips,
the boulders of my cheekbones,
the weariness of my eye sockets,
black and blue
Atlantis hovers on the horizon
and I am left whispering:

where are you?
Where have you gone?

With a maddening intensity,
a mad woman
woven into the bed sheets
sleepy eyed
forgetful, revenge ready
ruff hewn, watching

such things complicate her,
dull and refute her, she is
transmutable, she is
otherworldly at times,
spiteful, yet alone

Atlantis is the opaque transmogrify
of a bedroom at dawn with you
asleep on one side of the equation
and myself asleep on the other, Atlantis
is my fist wrapped around you, it's
your eyes closed, face above mine,
its trying to make sense of it all,

Atlantis is empty,
ghost town, smeared eye shadow, knowing
that you've fooled yourself for so long
you've taught yourself to reenact the act
you once swore to disavow so strongly,

she is just a mirage, and his mouth
on yours was a meandering myth, something
unspoken now, a legend, a city
full of statues and motes, drowned
girls, and silly hopes.