And May Your Angels Version Two

 And May Your Angels Version Two

 

I will split open my heart

and use its blood for ink;

watch fast flooding thoughts it thinks,

writes both our names in crimson pink

as I’m guessing, well, we’re next to useless

in a tangled-up dictionary somewhere,

look here without is kissing clue,

and may your Angels version two.

 

Rip off flesh in paper pricked perforations,

cocktail sticks with pencil sharpened tips,

ones that once speared dish pitted olives

from Mount Olive brought by doves

above receding floods, well, because

we’re peeling, falling in flaps from love’s ceiling

as wallpaper paste forgets it’s glue,

and may your Angels version two.

 

Offer me your liver for a sponge,

I’ll take it, let it soak up years of waste,

days we made haste to suck up the taste

of beige meals, plentiful off-yellow wines;

swallow so much cut-price booze and grin.

never making spring, or much of anything.

We’ll find it absorbing if we do,

and may your Angels version two.

 

Listen: I’ll give you my smile;

passing by to pass me yours,

scan neatly now, because, of course

we’re subordinate and dependent clause.

All we have throated, all these lost days,

long winters follow just one summer haze,

I still can see a love that’s true,

so may your Angels rise with you.