the second you go
I forget what your voice sounds like
the iodine, the alloy, the tintype
whether I made up the glossy terminology
and stuck it down into your throat
so the redolent groans tumbled out of you
we sat underneath
the sweet scent of Wisteria
the dusty shade balking and bawling
protecting its grey daguerreotype
from the barks and bites of rays;
soft shadows falling over the face of Susanna
we spent the hours together, heavy-footed
in the city that is drowning.
why would they build a kingdom on the water?
you laughed, and looked away.
all day, all days
I have seen you imprinted on the screen
your mercury and metal oxidizing the air-
and now you are gone
and I can’t remember a thing.