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.