carl sandburg should have had the last word

but

i got your email;
loosened tears, of course

so i took four ibuprofen
and lay down on my office floor
and, in my stupor there, composed
lines like

i dream of you bowing my pelvis bone, soundless rubbery strokes

or

please push your rose slit urethra deep against the back of my throat, where my tonsils were,
so that my nose tip disappears in your black curly hair,
and my nostrils draw it in as i gasp to breathe

i want you with such force

and i can’t move anymore
i can barely say i hate* you

[post mortem: praise of verse in place of return of *love? who cares.]