Aubade for an Accomplice
No one understands the pit bull
you make of morning, the tender felony
of waking up in a shared bed not shared
with you. No one knows that you dream
of me in my own dreams & witness
my struggle not to lull this sleeping corpse,
or shoe that lifeless horse. I tried again
to chart my departure: bridge or bus or gunfire
out the back of a pickup, the exits passing
like endless escape routes in this wasted race
to do what it takes to stay without staying.
You have my permission not to love me —
you, who have gone where it is always winter
& returned with the salt of stars in your mouth,
your fists full of falling. You can steal me away
instead, a lullaby at the speed of sound. Please:
swing low, Supernova, & come to carry me home.