Living Thing

for Frank ‘O Hara

I don’t know why I held my hand up like a cloth

when I should of peeled out its odd purple veins
and left them outside in a bouquet
for the sun to spill onto

I am ridiculous

Come back

I know you are dead
but I will drive you home
and pull out my hair to make you laugh

I will not talk about my own body
or cloak myself in the smell
of a feeble cucumber flower or a boat

I am so good at being alone
with this terrible wheezing sincerity

1 comment
  1. Stephen said:

    I love this expression.
    I never know where it is going.It does not give itself away like so many verses.

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