You say there’s no hypocrisy in sleep,
and that is when they turned on us.
Went into the closet
and dragged us like some puppets
through the street.
Like animals with human
newborns in their mouths.
Was I supposed to hold the leash?
And I woke up, the pose of love—
My God like I had left you on the stove.
This Issue
March 27, 2003
This Issue
March 27, 2003
