You pound my bones until they are teeth
in a jar. But you’ve been a string I pull
like overhead lights that scintillate dark
rooms. You’re onomatopoeia when swish
sounds from the grammar pond splash down
ear slides; penumbra in the murmurings
of the mind; cock-a-doodle-do for snoring
expressions. You oompah on fingertips, yet
cruelly rev your engine, leaving on impulse.
You are dictator and civil servant; a Cadillac
when there’s barely room for a bug in the last
parking space; lighthouse when it is caliginous
out. You command whites of tablets to hold
truths, yet like Moses, it takes years to get
you to cross the desert of my throat.

Please write soon;
obsessed with you.