I did it like you said I would

in terms of how we thought

things would go accord-

ingly. And yes there’s blood

in family, love and sport

or making from our words
a tight, confused assembly

of musical notation, line

and the kind of detail hurt

thrives on when we occupy

the dark side of what’s mine

what’s yours. Therapy as art.
Art as fuck it, that’ll do.

We like it said the way we’ve

seen the matter off to bed

but sleep comes hard, and so

we lie beneath a wall of waves

that break inside our heads.
What was I saying, and why?

Have we made it here to take

measure of each other’s hands?

The day arrives, the red sky

washes in to make amends

for its downfall or atrophy.