I am tired of running my tongue over my teeth
they ache it feels like the cold is inside them
your letter did not come my little brother peeled lemons
if I crack the seeds my mouth hurts my mouth hurts
we ate them like oranges our teeth did not rot
we ate them on the roof and tossed the peels into the street
the seeds rolled down I was old enough
there would not be a letter the lemons were small
remember that? if I wrote the letter
I'd use the word surge
I would say it goes through me all the time
Over there. Away there. My long yawn.
Is the sun trackless? Gander yellow,
ender, rounder, my hind. My hand.
My dear distant, clipped on a wire.
Lyre, we learn: a head. Snipping away
in my bad French. My bad friend.
Cable was Caleb, vouchsafed thither,
farther. Fathered. Dawn.