I flew away, the angels broken by the back of a dictionary.
I asked for Pity with her abstract hands, flesh turns cold at her touch.

If you love me love me in a minute,
love me now with your tongue not your words
Love me with the grit in the river, with the green thorns that stick your ankles.
Love me because the pain is enormous and it's lonely inside and out,
Love me because turning back now would hurt too much, would anodize your brain.
Love me in the lightning, don't pity me, don't digest my name,
Don't find me in the dictionary, that old wilderness of fallen words.
Here I am with broken pieces of my saying,
if you love me love me as much as I am damaged.

Then the sky sat on my speech and crushed it down to a peanut butter
scraped across the sidewalk, to an anecdote, a motto.
It looked into my eye and said: Nice speech. Are you sad enough yet to love?
But I was standing on a rock and the water was rising under my heels
I was going to float away into the sun but I heard love's voice in back of me
it didn't even have a body, there was no pity in it
it was empty of everything, it was ready to cradle me
like a boat in the ocean, like a boat on a violent sea.