Too little salt, too much sea
sun-dried kite swept aside my
tear seeped linen,
when
you sent
your potbellied moon
to shine on my
pockmarked face
sent me riding waves
when i asked for candy-smelling summer
rains
sent me life beneath
your crooked
smile,
the eye of storms in
coffee cups
sent me happiness
capped like
a ship in your glass
jar
that croaked,
a prisoner-of-war stuck in reverse
your poetry like
your stones
aimed for
the
sky
your
teethmarked bones
ached for
a
lie
and
while you slept
lowly clouds-a-rumbling,
i detached your
radio wires
upset the moccasin
shelf
before
rushing out-a-tiptoe,
squashing lemon-tart-fed-red-rats
spoiling garden wisteria
by your
window-pane
as, dreaming of sun-brimming
newer lives,
i stood,
rattling chains against my heart
feeling too close to your
panting happiness
feeling
the room too small for two
when in your brown plastered bed
enclosed in nicotinised arms
happiness felt too small,
our carousal ride was
never
meant to be this
long
such a shame, thus,
my shoes that
fill with your
thoughts
never quite reach
my breast-pockets
where
i keep your prized
ship-in-a-glass-jar
hunger before happiness,
it stands with me.