hang out your heart to me, in mimetic structure,
a rival, a stark, a mirror to my own bone-jawed disconnection.
perhaps by archaic means, playing telephone by candlelight.
your paper cup to my string.
my tunnel to your ear. your ear to my tunnel.
i never had that sort of window.

i would give you mine again, but its on loan right now.
it’s parked under monochromatic light. rusting. friable scrabble.
i can’t pay my rent.

or, until, you with your tenancies and agreements
and documents, you shipwrecked here,
myrrh and electromagnetic camera in hand.
heart in a cup.
miscommunication by telephone wires.
but there you were. revenue paid in full, with interest.
i can’t keep up, crashing over myself. yourself.
heat in rocket rumbling, like a natural disaster, in my skin. you. here.
you brought this asteroid. this mid-continent earthquake.

to drop upon an eave, to eve, to be eve, to eavesdrop, i would, before you—
tiptoe up against the faint, cheek pressed to the door.
breath hushed.
tapping lines and microbiological technology was beyond me.
you are beyond me.

and with sudden, a flash in possession,
a struggled likeness is readied.
i’m binging on the set of the unbraid,
unbreak irrevocable curses upon this very sullied self.
angular. this reflection is aquiline.

you can see i’m yielding.

give it back, the loan, the parking spot, this polaroid,
the—
heart.
i can’t even fucking drive.

say what you want to mean, to me.
it’s a close capture with the shutter closed, isn’t it?
i can’t be everything i need to be.
i’ll probably be leaving soon.