sending coded postcards to my lady
of awkward compartmentalisations
now that her pole-dancing days are over
& her interest in art has begun
here’s one of me & S. Sebastian
& here’s one of my cock in the bocca
della verità & this is the end
of yet another phase of hopelessness
not that it hasn’t had its miracles
its commas of starlight in the wine glass
the morning moving down her naked back
her fists full of my ordinary hair
I devote the rest of my life to these
bucatini all’amatriciana