filament,
I already fell for every word
on every fortune
every drawn number from God’s bingo wheel
ferocious summoning
lines and billiard tables
with names of men in hiding
scratched among scratches--
they were all anagrams,
slouching at a round table
wondering how long they’d been awaiting confusion
(and I fared no better against your saliva
with hushes crossing and settling over
every letter of your wettened spills and
strangers extending perforated fingers
through my liver overreaching their
handshakes without smiling a single word
we sprinkled mirror shavings across
reclining war zones grassy tar and
empty channels, holding chains
mistaken for piano keys and
when I back into you we
would say “I’m sorry and I do
not remember your name”
(“I’m sorry and I do not
remember a name”)
Filaments flicker slow, yes they do in-
debted desperation, hey if words
are good enough to be untrusted
then they deserve no better than our
utterly blameless disarray )
but I am thankful for your name, anyway
February/May, 2014