BazenBazen

Does this look infected to you? Vanna Bowles

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The story begins at the black mouth of a cave and ends with a  strange dog at the door.     With chaos.         A hotel in Tucson.  Yellow curtains on the window.           A love letter written as a question:         IF I KISS YOU, WILL YOU SUFFER?         In the jaundiced light of early morning,                Elvis is in the kitchen singing       we can’t go on together,      and Katie laughs in the porcelain tub,     drops her head under bathwater and baptizes herself.    Says: “Salvation is easy. You just have to die a little.” Same with love, mon amour.         Same with anything dazzling and useless.   The blackness beyond the reach of the lightbulb. The yellow flower patterned sheets.              Our stunned faces, pale with strange relief          when we witnessed the unraveling of all things        beautifully brief:           a love that slow dances. Holds hands when it crosses the street.        Remembers to call home.    A love killed every night.     Resurrected every morning.