Morning - For my friend Gaby

Morning

Today I woke with purple eye.

The bed sheet covered with bitterness,

the horizon dyed your gaze with resentment.

It was my prison, my sticky algae refuge,

the silence of dead birds.

God I love you Gaby! Your hands

strange tentacles of islands.

Oysters open their eaten shells

rock jellyfish and sirens

have indigo lips.

So much oblivion, so much baseness!

A wounded wolf with hemlock penis

howled in your brain.

It hit the staghorn corals.

So much water lily perfume

in the swamp inside you.

The morning was intoxicating liquor,

menstrual delirium. Your sex

on top of my tumbling soul

defeated. The froth of your mouth,

the epilepsy of sound scream:

God how I love you!

You were the vampire

of my night carriage, the dice

rolled in red brothels, the subtle

emanation of nipples.

Next morning

your teeth bit my forbidden fruit,

walked with tousled hair, wandered

the streets of my chalices.  You knew

how to unleash the envy of morning joggers.

There’s no answer to the torture

of your silence, you gave everything

you had in the rocks, the mosses,

the cliffs, the gelatin slits of my skin.

Your gaze fell victim to a deathly pecking.

Once eyeless, you destroyed gulls,

infected the solace of your prison cell.

            Gaby

                        Gaby

                                   Gaby

You are the first haggard hours of my morning.