God,
You carry this device in my chest called  love
& I – a child of infertility – choose you to sterilizeÂ
the left testicle of intimacy  While sitting on the right
(hand, of course) I grope the goose  which is your ghost
Not holy  not resurrection  not an assault on the Nature
of Divinity   :::: God,  you once castrated  my belief in you
It  was February  or March  in a sublet in  Brooklyn
& I (still) respond by emasculating your vision of  toilet paperÂ
Hand sanitizer     hands clapping into a Berlin nightÂ
Let me  be clear :  the door is not you, the skylight isn’t me gazingÂ
down at you, the window isn’t your widow  Â
I never view you as anybody’s hard husband                Never wed  for now
Let me be empty – the Indo-European root signifier for widow
Let me bereftÂ
Let me leave your bed side while I neuter  you out of my galaxyÂ
Click here to read VI KHI NAO on the writing of this poem:
Image:Avenue des Pierres Rouges 20 Yabby CC 2.0
- T E A R S - May 16, 2020
- Widow - March 31, 2020
- SALIVA TERRACADE - January 7, 2017