The Reason for Irises
I would rather not go back to the stained
It is more agreeable if pass and left.
At the market yesterday I saw Mark
suddenly thin, his pants too loose.
Today Dan’s widow dress
hung from a spur or thorns
the gallery silent.
Each darkening sooner than the last
these autumn days goad me back
But this time
I want it to be with water
that sounds the aria of falling
its spilling back.
I would like it to be a clear day
when t-shirts cover and expose us
leaving only tattooed peonies.
The air should move and bring us it
the smell of him and of the loft
I insist on food because wasting was his
I do not forget the mouth
and would have the thick touch
and lay down beside the stream
and let its gestures glide
against his hand
He would have isises, too.