Maybe Under Some Other Sky

Ask me, Poet, Did I love her?
Breast against bristle, penny eyes—
I loved Rose the way fours
Exchange blows, the way fractures
Need islands, the way we tremble
In the glow of dead-ass truth—
You wanted to stay awake
Just to see the end with her.

Guardian, gladiator & goon—
Skeleton-to-ash—speak, dead.
Forget, always. Ask me again,
Did I love her?
With holy-mouth & hard-hand,
I play like I say: Yes. Yes I did.