Killer Domestic: ‘Quiet Jackals’

September 30, 2013

In your universe, which is my universe,

We could have sat sandy on the beach

Like a pair of feet or climbed the tree jungle

That no one knows about. But we didn’t.

We could have done a coffee lap around the lake

And laughed at seersuckers old men sport

While swapping camp stories and dares. But we didn’t.

Your eyes and mouth would form an unruly triangle

I couldn’t measure. The wind and skirt and shuffle

Of the sky and moon above the timid water

Would make me collectively believe again

Like when, as a boy, I used to sign my forehead

And bow and genuflect in gold. The night shakes

The lake trees and swindles us out of

Proper conversation. We duck for the gym

In your universe, which is my universe,

Which dangles in precarious doom like your necklace

In a breezy evening tide. Shutter with me

At the altar of now and pretend

We are quiet jackals on the grass,

On the beach, on a tree limb,

On a meadow made of sky

And wash away with me as stabbing rain.

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