Desire is a buffalo standing on my chest.
I’m sorry to be dramatic, but this is the only
way to tell you. A woman sings on the radio
& I punch the Lord all over the place. What
are these hands for? On dry nights I drag
them across my belly & listen to the sound—
a distant snow saying your name over & over.
In the office I daydream of your back muscles
& magpies & cormorants & nightingales surge
from the bottoms of my pant legs & we both
know that this is not what happens. I touch
this part of myself, Sal, so rarely. & when I do
I dream with such absurdity. The last time I beat
a man to death with a black lantern. In another,
with a clock. Once, with a burning cedar tree.
I dreamt that I murdered a man with a burning
cedar tree! We were standing in a vaulted room
that was at once a train station & synagogue
& there was a man playing a violin & there was
a burning cedar tree & I tore it out of the ground
& I beat the man to death with it! Do you under-
stand what I am saying to you? Please, Sal,
please. You must never kiss me again.