How You Love

Like the injured laid down at the scene of an accident

before cars collide, like cloud striations over

Fairyland Loop, like a kid’s carnival balloon

diminishing and lost to the great blue,

like bright jewels scattered in some secret cave, like two

scissor blades breaking apart, like after-party guacamole

with drips of salsa, like diamonds of light rotating over

an empty dance floor, like priests at night staring

in store windows at half-nude mannequins,

like dark earwax, like unscented candles, like Janus.