Guest
And so you sit in bed,
after click closing the door
on the guest room;
forgetting you had ever loved him.
And the numbness went on
in the armpit of your sleep shirt,
the duvet meringuing, the rain, that whole
rice in a tin thing.
Your old apple core heart,
has wormed out of a two or thing.
Those mirror slippery streets you kissed on
like strange verbs,
the friend’s flat you stayed in and sweated
out syllables
like the start, of a song.
