Rome, in Hindsights

of a bed birthmarked

with espresso spills

& stairs stacked up

like well-thumbed field books

& taxis straying out of traffic

takes over the longer night ahead

where you’re carried

into his bedroom & placed

like a finger

in another woman

where earthworms drown

on your watch

& a courtyard David lifts the blade

of his marble palm

against the pouring

another David feeling

out the marrow

of distant snow.

 

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