49.

there is a secret beneath
the ground that twines
the tree roots
and it is the name of my knees
and the air as they open

a grassy smell from
somewhere below me
I kneel in moss and slugs spread
their mucus on my red lips to taste
the earth

lately I have been finding
cigarette butts inside my clothes outside
my skin, my heart
is pumping something
that is not blood

I cannot smell like you I
will not smell like you
anymore. your
swan song fades against the gray
against my back against yours

and we somehow cannot see
each other’s faces now
my only line of vision leads along
a wire to the ground, the grime
of rusted metal

and your ghost tugging
my hair. Oh, I just want
to feel the something of you
the grass or the ground or the
taste of a slug on my lips