It’s 2:30 am, the time

I’m supposed to forget,

when we open our legs

for gruff solace. Romance

took a hike two hours ago

and I want what’s wrong—

uncouple the body from love,

sweet fuck, I want you

on display, or with another man.

I want you meaningless.


What happens when I hold on

too long—lost in anxiety,

my escape, this idea of sex. So

I call you instead, wanting

a way out. Better to listen

to the phone ring, keep me

focused. Maybe if I told you,

if we talked it through,

cut me down…


Sometimes our kisses keep

their old meaning—I remember

how to love, or how I might.

Six more hours until church.

Do you believe in divine

intervention? I believe

in losing phone numbers,

memories, old dreams.

I don’t want you

to pick up, I don’t

want to want at all.