with my wine & chicken sandwich
hoping to look beyond you to the sea.
It’s been five & one-half months &
all that you promised has come true:
I’m your slave & bend to your whip &
spit you back as you have done to me.
Suicide is not an end but begins one
empty day after another. Here I am,
take my solace & build on what’s left.
I can count what remains in small syllables
one emphatic beat at a time.
