Bones open the sky
above my dog’s grave, where he licks chops
and grapples with fat steaks
-it was him that i felt in your lips!
Those lights inside your skin, driving
and tearing down the abandoned sky
slaying poems with growls, and
the occasional slumber.
Roasting time with a perfect
execution, and gliding his tongue
between the yelps of cosmotic drift
shattering the hemlock of death.