At night time she would toss rocks at my window
that disturbed the mud & left scars
just like the nails of 1’s palms. & I would depart
my room to unhinge the latch
resulting in that which I swore to not welcome.
In any tournament the act of opening
one’s door to any other’s starvation implies
the absence of sunshine.
Every now and then the decision of 1’s howl is the one
difference between predator & prey.
& I’ve watched the gallop of a sheltered hound
lose himself around the intersection
of the busiest boulevard summoned by way of that
which used to be no longer love.
In reality a heat frame is the supply
of each tune’s call for. Regardless
of the way the bedsprings cry out. Or who or what
enters the floral sheets.