beauty where it is(/not?)
my body, like clockwork, requests you
in the steady tick-tock of our hearts
the pendulum sways with opinion
moving quickly from good idea to bad idea
and returning to settle at
four : forty-seven a.m.
like a kind of off-quarter charm
saying the best answer to indecision is action
and seeminglyu suddenly,
the only place to look is your eyes
this is not the poetry i am seeking
but i sweat through it and in the struggle
to remain vaily quiet i let go of something
in the rhythm of our passage of time
i see myself reclined in the half-moon shape
four-to-five-to-six
i wonder what words are spilling from our hands
but i’m almost sure i hear the sing-song tales
of an innocence untainted
by these childish games we play
but, then, if even the most traumatic moments
are beautiful in their poetic form
then surely we can reset
the choking phrase of one-night-stand
in the romantic movements of your fingertipos
as yr right hand slides from left to right
in the cupping of my body at the shoulder
and the ring of a brand new alarm