Dear John

We tucked two hearts in hole and in corner, And shared our secrets in shades of pale blue. I started balancing life on your chest That night we set on a quest to spy the moon, Equipped to bless the night so wide with tears (Or ride your thighs to the brink of the world). Escape is good for the waifs of the world; Searched six months straight (not quite) for a corner Just right to shade me from glint of the tears You shed as you fled, both unsexed and blue. Alone I slicked my stomach beneath the moon Dreaming rather of painting your chest. But damn my longing for that now-nothing chest, Its empty barrel splayed wide to the world. Time to decide I can no longer moon Over left or right at the street corner Near you, taking inventory of blue Irises I gladly watered with tears. Flowers your husband planted beg me to tear Their flesh like I tore nails across your chest. Something old (you), new (me), borrowed (time), blue Me — me, who pitfalled into Eros’ world. Or rather, I pratfell into a corner Of a peevishly open honeymoon. When’s it okay to stop loving him, Moon? When will your tugging stop milking out tears? I board once more to take a new corner Stuck with the baggage he checked in my chest And an invalid passport to his world, Stamped cover to cover in black and blue. Last night, I peered up into the deep blue To be issued a challenge by the moon: Enshroud your fey-light love below the world And wash my hands of the oily tears I used to get you off. My chest Chose to ignore the throbbing in its corner. Off in the night’s corner I stashed my blue Vellum suit in a chest, hidden from the moon And saved my next batch of tears for the world.