I cannot breathe into this. Rubber turned so
heavy. Solid. A sack of wet rice
Just heavy just swollen and stuck.
Now I must forget London that fucking lovely city.
I must destroy it all that skyline I saw from the Tube
the frenzied red the spinning dog the gentleness.
That swan so still. Waiting.
That swan on still water. I didn’t know it was gliding
in that smog and that haze, so I slipped out of Hyde Park.
And like an idiot stayed here. Felt justified like water
running that hits a tree and crashes downhill
to search the ravine for some source. I could —
you and I could overflow. Delta into insanity like
I know you wanted to like how I loved London rain
because I wanted Piccadilly to flood so that London would go quiet
And we could skip breakfast.
How wonderful it was
to hear about dying lambs how wonderful. Please—
I liked it better when your handprint was raised.
I don’t want to go still like
wretches that get uglier the less violent I want you to
trace again my back smash my meaty heart until it
dies like fish in your hand take my womb handle it until it suffocates. Tear open
my lungs so they can rest and hold nothing/everything. Rip out
all the muscles until you’re too tired to be angry and smart. And I’ll bleed out.
And what’s left is the ditzy mind you loved you
liked well enough. Use your hands. You are a man. Not a swan on silver in
the dreamy warm. I want to freeze I want to burn.
I never was alone.
Don’t make me carry my body home.


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