the coup a flat top like the body, I say this with love as I pour wax into myself. any callus from knock-off Keds helps my balance. I used to be off-kilter. equilibrium only under covers. the body ignoring the brain. the brain without ropes. if we could go back to the first time the first date the first Valentine’s in an Applebee’s parking lot, wearing a homecoming dress in North Hall, off Beech street, would you still hold the door for me? the first time, the only time. cowboy burger and chicken penne. Pepsi instead of Coke. my bounds left wrapped. keep the satin, forget the bra at home. I have the heels still with black bows. my ankles rolled, my arms a little wider. the eyes always aglow.

I hear the candle hissing. a blush of robins picks at the dimples in the yard as if to heal. if you see me frowning in bed, can you tell I’m out of love? it’s since seeped through the baseboards. I try to suck it back up with fingertips, but they come up empty. my ribs retain a little. cradling it like an inmate. giving in to its murmurs. let’s get lost and forget the birds. find a road without lapse at night, eat greasy eggs at Denny’s, drink spent coffee with two half and halfs. speak away from ego. touch away from floors. let the love from its cage.