Obscenities: A Triptych

I.

I sit alone to read tonight.

And you should know:

I am not naked,

Drunk,

And fucking

With the spaces on a blank page

And with reality

In the ways that it fucks with me.

II. MY story is not so hard to write:

It only consists of the insistent starlings

Outside my window at 6 am

And does not end until I write how much I love you

On my pillow in tears.

(I know how little it means

for me to declare my love: and so

I don't

(-- it is a matter of choice,

here, I'll have you NB) (III))