outside the air is all lilac
and the inner thigh of the earth
is the promise
of resurrection
I hear the trains below
smell the backyard fires, no stars
and like the whore in love
resist the impulse
I listen, and think
oh, I will wait for you
to the end of my days
and sing my bullshit ballad
of your purity
I will lay down my Karen Carpenter
keep time
against the pulse of the hummingbird
snare, why do stars
suddenly appear?
in suburban alleyways
maternal mop and bucket
at my side
the night air smells of lilac
cats moan, trains throb
and I will keep time
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