archaeology

we are an archaeological dig
slowly filled in with used-up things
teeth too dull to bite flesh
orgasms that fail to manifest
from your too high or too low
state of mind

our wrestle with it-
life, love
is the cat smashed
on the highway, broken pencils
slivers of soap, hair, gristle
old tv shows we watched with
eyes like blind blackened
light bulbs

you used to kneel down like bridges
i was the city, all billow and plunge
like wild horses in the smoke
and you'd open yourself up like
hysterical burning eyes at night
as the heroin straight lined
i trembled-

i listen to static in the phone
hear you break apart like
an icy meadow, shrieking
your grief to the cows

i hear your praying tears
in softening blackness
i hear you outside my window
crazed, inconsolable
i go out and take you inside

yesterday you said
you saw us in a photograph
in a ditch by C-163
half in the water
the rest of us
beached in the mud

but unlike your grief
i am not burned
by a hand of faith I cannot see
we make love again
because death you said
is more certain for you

and i promise not to call you
at the end