weddings for houseflies
do you promise each other
until tomorrow do we part
above the sleeping bananas?
a house is a dream of sugar.
does one of you think
oh you & your stain glassed wings?
teeth on the windowsill.
looking in the light for dresses.
so often i am exactly this brief.
hovering just above
a mouthful of the world.
instead i land where it is safe
& damp & quiet. hold my eyes
in my hands like bowl of blackberries.
standing on the ceiling with you
where we can pretend every light
is a skateboard to the sun.
your wedding had no guests
only other dancers. how you gather
like fingers in flocks.
i try to imagine how long
a few days might feel
if that would the only life
you had. do you celebrate
the minutes? do you tell a lover
i remember when, three minutes ago
i fist witnessed your craving
for trash can syrup? i can make myself
feel guilty of just about anything.
i don't want to crush you
into your own little crumpled morgue
but i have to. thumb & forefinger.
i destroy the whole wedding party
who once gathered like mandolin strings
near the orange fruit bowl.
gone. their memories still hovering,
moving in tiny six-legged orbits.