I brave night until its middle, until I grow
so lonely I dissect what sky falls from a cloud.
By morning I have sprayed you with the smell
of muscles, & now the lions are frightened.
Lift a finger, lift a word. I am somewhere
around the age of a cloud & still we grow older.
Watch my heart bury a submarine
as I tell our imaginary children Fidelity is never finding
a monster under your bed. Jehanne,
thank you for brushing the teeth of giants.
I’m sorry for planting the lion tree, I’ve always been
the kind of fucked up with a strong jaw. Still, I point
my shoulders straight to heaven. Steeping into night.