Folded Apocrypha

by bobbymillerwriting

sit

while I lie to you

while we lie

together

 

hunched

over naked whiteness

lines imagined tight and hopeful

but never made real

and in the end

really untouchable

 

secrets sleeping

between skin-woven folds

and apologetic creases

of hasty thoughts

under love—

overtures to the ordinary

man-to-woman; or,

woman-to-woman; or,

man-to-man

again

 

left

to be eaten by sidewalk sweepers

or convicts or religious pupils

or simply good folks

stooped in service—

disposing of lost memories

left on a roadside; or,

a sidewalk; or, just beside to a trashcan;

or, beneath a park bench—

wet and shimmering with morning dew

 

All the same

they read

 

“I love you”

 

which means—I dream

of you; or,

I feed on you; or,

I write—

you; or, I need you;

or, I know your name

or,

I never learned to write my own

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