sonnet agley (20160825)

i don’t want to know how things are going
not with you–not with your resurrected life
i have little interest in knowing
if you’ve given your hair up to the knife

i can’t scrape up the enthusiasm
to hear you talk about your latest trip
once i thought it was because the chasm
widens–a bridge of shoddy workmanship

but really all i can hear is white noise
i feel a constant pressure on my skin
‘neath water where leviathan enjoys
the dark saline fluidity of sin

sunk deeper than any of neptune’s pools
my leather heart blossoms in bleached spicules