| Your bedroom is a cinder
|
| In the black hearth of the night
|
| You are sleeping with the singer
|
| Though the drummer fucked you twice
|
| There are details not recorded
|
| And the memory drown in wine
|
| Those days were minor bruises
|
| Their atoms lost in time
|
| I loved you from a distance
|
| Like a bird surveys the dawn
|
| It hesitates to get involved
|
| Though beautiful the morn
|
| There are details not recorded
|
| And the memory drowned in wine
|
| You are sleeping with the singer
|
| Your kiss will ne’er be mine
|
| Your lovers are like dominoes
|
| They chain across your life
|
| These bones are almost seamless
|
| Though they topple in a line
|
| I’ve seen the way you kiss him
|
| One eye upon the next
|
| You’re never short of candidates
|
| To suckle to your breast
|
| To hook and clip your dress
|
| My hands are small but careful
|
| I’d trace your map of bone
|
| Slowly chart the latitudes
|
| As sculptors sculpt the stone
|
| There are details not recorded
|
| And the memory drowned in wine
|
| You are sleeping with the singer
|
| Your kiss wiLL ne’er be mine. |