one catastrophic line
wound around my throat
the razor wire brambles ran
like ivy on dead porches
strangling the boards and bones
creeping shards of sundering cold
frayed every quaking nerve
from the sanctity of skin
you left me here in ribbons
left me here
and this profane bouquet
withering on the floor
all of the thorns purged
that I would rather bleed to death against
than a thousand maudlin words
perfumed with gasoline
concussed and warring I shook
for necessary surgery
the lungs locked and pushed aside
if you had reached in
with violent nails and wrenched
the ribs from beneath my breast
and lighted candles in the walls
to glance this gasping heart
I think I could have then with you
wearing me on your hands
but you were only so
very sorry