---

F41.1

and what a marriage
we know nothing of it

bette midler tweeted this
after prince philip died

ridiculous thing to tweet
or think, maybe true that

we know nothing of it
allegedly, though I think

no marriage can exist
and leave no trace, see:

my love of dragging
myself on my knees,

wanting for a clasped
hand, a man who will

turn any knife
I hand him. we had it all

figured out. us four
on a boat, lashed

against the black, cold
sea. what a shock then

to find it written on me.
I placed a few lilac stalks

in a wine bottle, so beautiful
to watch them wilt and blow

weeks later scanned inside the
dark glass to find the stems

thick with mold, white and
woolen, fuzz of pale lanugo.
 

Complaint

between me and the reason I exist, there is a gun. if I am ever
happy to be alive, I must thank it. we know this rule: a third
act, and the one to do the acting. not me though. someone

has to go through the motions of a good life,
pulling corn silk from the drain. years later

she’s crying, calls me to say it
(if you didn’t pick up,
she says, who knows what might)

it’s wrong to make promises I don’t mean to keep
said chekhov and his gun was right
where he left it. on the phone

the feeling was less of fear but recognition:
here. here it is. it’s been here the whole time.

---