Underwater Shapes

with you I’d like to think
I am become
a vat of beautiful things,

hollow for the sounds
of
your slenderest fleshes

dipping in long blue
dimples,
and the coolness,

the moon fierce and bowlegged
over the water,

the twin submerged clots of my feet
misshapen, currents
of black air and
the black vaginal bore
clamped against my skin;

the oysterflesh behind my knees
bleeding against the concrete edge,

soggy rag-fingers and
the white tablet of chlorine
flaking at the bottom.


.

That For Which We Have Fought

again your nicest
dress crumpled
like cloth
beneath the chair;
in sleep
your golden jaw
dripping honey on my arm.

the worst things are
your belly’s two folds,
glutted on
all my holiest minutes,

and that all
the things I thought of myself are true.


.