zafusy

When to the world a marriage is coming on
go back to smoking
fucking on that desk above the lake

two windows icing over
the moon’s lost face
padding thickly about the room
there was only one

pale tremolo of sails on bottled waves of blue
back then
slapping consciousness
all night

where on our backs
it made its shore
a surety in us.

Peter Rennick

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