Poem (4)

what often happens when socializing

around a dinner table and
00000000000like a shot
conversation shifts to moscow and a famous tomb and
i’m above that bed
watching you climb
0000000000into yourself forever,
000000000000000 swallowing your petals
and i, holding your hand, in awe of
00000your last breaths

in a flash your body becomes lenin’s
00000000lowered daily into royal chemistry,
0000000000preserved like an alphabet
a queue two miles long becomes
the four of us
000000000000the russian capital becomes one lonely room
and i become only a hip bone
00000a skull
leaving kisses of hope and mist on
your fleeing skin000000000000 flowing like a requiem

on a trapeze i relive those moments endlessly
you pregnant with morphine000000000bloody as a miscarriage
and i wonder:
my dreams of your recovery,
were they fruit stands, or
were they globes of light00000000000000revolving
0000000000 too-short
childish as pneumatics
stupid as percent signs

—  Michèle Katrina Thorsen



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