Decay

DECAY

Its not that I mind the existence of decay

Emperor worm will have his feast.

But the tongue that crawled through

the salty flanks, will never crawl again.

I'm going to miss the dime crushed by the passing train.

The lovely cruelty of women inhaling.

The tongue stuck to the iron gate.

The wait that ends in the early morning.

The dog that purrs. The milk gone bad. The cake

that didn't rise. Everything crushes me

with its existence. The universe is flat. Men

are free until they are not. We were young.

And we loved to argue.