To the Grace of the Unmade Bed

If fruit arises from flower

fruit flowers; if water flows

over rinds & out petals

the greater the fruit, the flower;

if two, forever two; the blueberries, the grapes,

her eyes, her fables of outsides,

of swingsets, of insides.


In the bedroom to see

the sheets on our skins

innocent of “the miserable human condition”

we touch our bodies as proper things,

explicitly—part follows part in kissing & fucking—

press open, pull apart to see

sex in its work—unlabored

unmiseried in our condition of the human,


          September Sun-------------------------------------------------------------------jubilation

we roam, unspool

ourselves across our skins;

we loll in air, air lolls over us—

zinnias in a vase beside the bed &

their spines send vapors,

a vast horticulture of drunkenness:


                                                                 lease,            ease,            unmapped