I find myself confusing names
and images go along
and the doorbell rings but
I swear it means
that you are far past gone
from what I thought I
needed you to be.
I wonder what I thought
when long lines of bodies
pressed against mine
and I knew your legs and lips
but not your voice
wrapped around worlds
hanging like globes
from your tongue to my mouth.
I find myself whispering
soundlessly
your name just to make you
reality
because I am not afraid of you
or sin
or your claims
because I have a weapon--
I make you real,
and when I stop believing
you don't exist.

02/07/2002

Posted on 02/07/2002
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