Sometime late January
you spent the night with a woman
watching the moon grow.
come take me in my own abattoir
I unrolled my tongue
ready for a messy kiss and out spilled
someone else’s lung.
I had created a dalliant and forbearing
stockyard in my bed to occupy us.
I’m red-hot and full of other people
You were outside in a corduroy jacket
counting her freckles as stars
as I was slicing the outside of someone’s arm
to crawl inside for warmth;
wait for us to duel it out
in the morning.
I was biting the inside of my cheek
to taste victory
and she was on top of you,
I had been waiting to show you
You had been waiting with kerosene
and some promises to hold
my pretty ashes