I pick up the boots
the sparkling cuffs
in crome
this thing that danced once
around caloses
and I call every sunrise a liar,
I say anything that moved
like that
or knew
my body
could never leave
in the common verity of leaving
and I pick
up his shirts broken buttons
all her loveliness gone,
and I speak to all the walls
white walls dark walls
chips of blinking things,
idols, pills, bread,
fathoms, risks,
knowledgeable surrender,
flies in the gravy of two gone quite mad
without a chance,
skydiver promise, hummingbird chance,
I lean upon this,
I lean on all of this
and I know
his boots upon my arm
but
they will not
bring him back to me
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