Behind the Lake

Bottles of Tequila drink us up and leave us
alone, finished like an astronaut who drifts off
years ago, gray matter cut from goodbye—

Do you remember when you were a flood
and I was a crime hanging off the greens
of your body, giving you magnolia petals

big enough to cover all your shifting; feeding
you starstuff and glass, filling nothing…
Behind the lake, you are a lark spilling bronze

from coattails. Cast song deep into railroad tracks
they build a city over, use rusted beams as haphazard
foundations—origin story of every breath:

create and create layers of spongy peach shell
all to have them scraped and scraped away—
O, born to become skeletons, no growing back.


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