muse

I lie on blank sheets,

their breadth unburdened.

that emptiness swallows.

The only useful mark

among detritus, I

am underwhelemed:

deftly placed semicolon,

no clauses to connect,

only the absent minded

strokes of the author--

two fork tines, aquafina

cap, salt deposits

(from tears, these),

the memory of your curve

around which my form

still curls in sleep.

In dreams i see

the imprint of drafts

tossed aside, novice

phrases erased for want

of a new set of syllables

with sexy facade,

longer legs, Latinate,

chosen for implication

of sultry viscosity

into which language might

swim, languish:

there I did marinate,

satiate variable appetites;

exotic verbiage challenged

grammatical alacrity, yet

I wanted for familiar subject.

II

I wish on elevens,

elevens with such symmetry-

eleven-elevens, exact,

multiple onenesses

singing octaves:

redo, redemption.

I wish on blue arteries

mirrored across wrist skin

buffered by lime green

fraying hair tie you gave me,

on palms' proximity.

I wish for fingers,

woven wicker knuckles,

mahogany and olive;

I wish

for 1 tsp. of clauses

within me cupped;