Promise me there is an end
to this ever. Promise me the tulips that return
with black centers and lurid pollen
will waste and wither in the heat.
Promise me this Tom Collins glass
will sweat itself out. Promise me another.
Promise me another kiss
to my forehead, a sweating goodbye,

promise me you won’t
come back. Promise me the rabbits
will starve in their burrows.
Promise me the rain coming down.
Promise me the fox kits will drown.

Promise me a house a car a gate
a small dog to wag when I come home.
Promise me a mailbox with my name on it.
Promise me a new name that suits me.
Promise me the dog won’t die.
Promise me a mouse in the pantry and small droppings
in the food.
Promise me moths in the clothes,
the small holes that grow larger.
Promise me your hands tied
behind your back.
Promise me we’ll laugh and laugh.

Promise me a child will shake out like pollen from a tulip.
Promise me you aren’t the man you promised.
Promise me that the hands I cut off and buried
in the backyard were my hands.
Promise me they won’t grow back.