Of Weddings Before The War

Yes, I bought you a wedding dress big enough for the two of us
And in the taxi home
we kiss a coin from your mouth to mine.

The landlady might’ve noticed
a drizzle of stains on the sheets —
angels could do it more neatly,

but they don’t. I can still climb your
underwear, my ass
is smaller than yours!

But you are two fingers more beautiful than any other woman —
I am not a poet, Sonya,
I want to live in your hair.

You jumped on my back, I
ran to the shower,
and yes, I slipped on the wet floor —

I watch you stand in the shower
holding your
breasts in your hand —

two small explosions.