This is honey. This is dripping. This is the bruise on my jaw. We are falling over in the shower, slipping on whiskey and spit. This is is is a miracle sent from a god I do not talk converse with anymore. My last supper was your saliva. My prayer was nothing but quite moans behind lapping waves. Monday, I woke on a boat. I woke to a dream, a man, a miracle snoring in my ear. Let’s go see the dinosaurs, darling. Let’s go see pretty lies, lover. Take me to the museum and show me your favorite skeletons. Take me to the pharmacy, I’ll show you my favorite ghosts. We we we are beating and brittle. I I I am not made to stay. Please, grab my wrists. Please, know my thoughts. I am weak and stubborn but god, your eyes sound like psalms. Your tongue kisses my teeth as though they were rosary beads. Hail Mary. Hail us. After the after, I still hear your laugh down the coast, under my door The gulls can not drown out my favorite song. We are whole and not holy. We are sin and not blessing. You are engraved in my palms. The lines deeper each day. We have always been in the crevices of my skin. Waiting. Lurking. Feeling. My feet are cold again. You sent me a picture of Lake Ontario at 9:20pm. I want to tape it on my fridge. I want to sit you at my kitchen table. I want. I need. I pray to blackholes. Ask for their magic; their escape to Kingdom. Maybe we will disappear in dust together. Maybe that houseboat was our only hope. Rock me to sleep, current. Sing me his siren song. Pull me down. Drowning is falling asleep slowly. Loving is sinking in cement shoes with open eyes.
b.e.fitzgerald (fables for feelers)










