The Saints Come, As Human As A

No Matter Whose Bed You Die In The Bed Will Be Yours For Your Voyage Onto The Surgical Andiron Of God.

At Six I Lived In A Graveyard Full Of Dolls, Avoiding Myself, My Body, The Suspect In Its Grotesque House.

We Do Not Explain My Husband's Insane Abuse And We Do Not Say Why Your Wild-haired Wife Has Fled Or That My Father Opened Like A Walnut And Then Was Dead. Your Palms Fold Over Me Like Knees. Love Is The Only Use.

She Is So Naked And Singular. She Is The Sum Of Yourself And Your Dream. Climb Her Like A Monument, Step After Step. She Is Solid.

Oh Thumb, I Want A Drink It Is Dark, Where Are The Big People, When Will I Get There...?