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.