Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Making sense of a marriage

This marriage, it’s been a lawnmower
of faith, a cleaver of the animal,
bundled in disguise—a deboning
of need, a skinning,
until want of wholeness
discards all but wantonness.


I drove past
your street tonight and thought
of dropping in
for a final fuck
to add to all the other
finalities,
so we could finally agree
that’s all it’s been,
a crazy string
of random fucks and me
cutting your grass.

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