In the halfway house, I met you
My mind swallowing particular phrases,
Your beliefs weaving their way back into
Consciousness, mine at the fall.
Some people said we lost our way in
The conviction of chalk-bone eyes and with
Our Father, Son, and Holy Ghost hearts crossed,
Delighting in dirty water.
Yet something was right, I knew not what,
The night sprawled into day, and
Your eyes saw something dead in mine
Come back alive.
There was a way in which you said,
The things that jumbled across
My folding table of skin and bones and tricks,
Mouthing a smoke alarm of substance.
You know what I said—
When the fruit was fingered to its core?
I meant it then, when our thoughts collided,
As the passing of a jilted lover.
I mean it now.
Cross-eyed like the lone cat,
That came to call at your doorsteps,
The night that we both left,
Feeling yellow with nostalgia and fever.
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