This time we’ll ride this winter out…
Maraschino cherries, in a short
glass or inked in your arm–you take
care of me when I have too much
(mostly when I’ve had too little…)
It’s like pressing against glass under
water, not enough force, no getting
through–deaf surrealism–someone
you shared a bed with will never lay
in a bedroom again, Hypnos taking
away Zeus in a ruse, black clouds
and lost lightning–We were going
to get koi fish tattoos together, I should
have done it. I should have taken
the risks you always take, for betterment,
for light… Your energy, dispersed, to some
place greater: maybe to a gusting gulf
stream wind, or a flashing meteor whose
light will be seen for centuries
across the universe…
—For Eric C. Jr.
Kristiane Writes 