What can I tell you (an Ars Poetica)
What can I tell you?
I confess
from you I learned
sweat is poison as well as nectar,
& there is no good word
for how I linger as you exhale.
I confess
I am a cracked mirror,
& you are a stone, a bird,
starlight tickling the fractures.
From you I learned jilting
doesn’t require stepping away.
I confess
I drink your furious glow
like the color black,
like a poet
whose mouth is a bucket,
whose head is an ocean of roses.