A's L #2

Point this here
Sharpen it now
Pull back my eyelid
Point that there

having seen this all before, I retreat
behind blankets, old playing cards
torn in pieces by the winds
rushing through the wire fences

Wipe it off
Bury it now
Pull back my eyelid
Wipe that off

out there as the seagrass sings, you recant
asphalt leaves, melting in lamp shadows
leprous and scalded by the ghosts
clutching at the life you gave me

Stab this here
Twist it now
Pull back my eyelid
Stab that there

it is the moon’s fault again, we rehearse
linings smeared, opaque and pearly
false as teeth that slip on by the young
disastrous meanings we agreed to lie with

that it wasn’t sharp enough
that it wasn’t pointed there
that it couldn’t stab here
that it wasn’t buried then
that it couldn’t be wiped off

we fucked up

That these eyes can still see
is a crime…a fucking crime.