The Dead

The Dead

We crash against
each other. Your craggy lips
splinter into
mine, we become
inseparable but not by
choice. Your wicked
soul is wicked as
mine but in a different way:
you’ll stay tonight. I’ve nothing
left to say.

It’s three. Outside
the sky is a juicy fruit, peppered
with white seeds. We watch
the last of the party kids
slam the doors of their rides. Moonlight
leaps inside: I am as lonely
as I have ever been. Kiss me,
Darling. Nothing is the same or as cold,
our touch is a black animal
sliding through air. Our bodies

are remote: we pass
in the night, mists blowing between us, together
and completely alone.  The ghosts rise
from their tombs, they shake their hollow heads:
they are the living, Darling.
We are the dead.