Sleep-walk
through a black body bag
toe’s tagged
he falls dirty like a dish rag
My love, his chalk
outline becomes my bed
he sleeps deep inside my lungs
I try to cough up his death
We exhale sharply together,
our silly little game
one of us a winner
the other in the grave
I am stuck with this raw, young body here
but he has taken my blood
my pulse is stiff against a man
yet I howl for the touch
For the moon’s milk
to puncture my skin
pray for my spirit
bring me to life again
