[Charleshieta]

All this talk including a shaft
of kid gloves and landmines went underground.

You were fetching my limbs
in sequels and spoofs, commemoration my organs

with friends spent, whose names like patients names.
Our clumped appetite stirs and how

when unwound, as with DNA, it sweetly wounds us.
Wish in the front place, you said, is hope misplaced

or no hope at all. But I clout, in my dreams I dream,
in my dreams I do not hope.

Where were you when was I? Counting down
the decades in behalf of the gain as sacrificial lamb of our anterior to war.

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