Sunday

once,
your spurs cut me

deep in a darkness
like light i blunk.
my deus ex machina

pike-skewering all
through me and my
stillness.

you tipped the different
pleas into the tube-
blam.

switched yourself off.
and on and off. and
came and went,

kept the plates spinning
like planets. your ex
in waiting

was me to come,
wrapped in the robes
of your doublespeak-

a factory worker,
sorting through bluff
and magic,

on ice; your need
to stay loved
gargantuan.

you threw me
like a bottle of poems
to the lake.

i am all in silt
and murk and lost.
you go on to hold

the hand of a new me,
interchanged nicely.

your bluster
visits new worlds
to make claims

of some whirlwind of love-
a stolen house ripped up
and shook,

forgotten.