On Street Corners At 4am

I force you to kneel on skeletons before me. Wrestle your will to love, take me down tendon by tendon crack crack. Bite my forehead and brush my hair back all at once. Somewhere it is snowing. Here, just frizzy. I don’t love you, but I want you and perhaps that translates into I’ll want to love you. The concrete vibrates;

I kick at your patella but you don’t break in two. Unwelcome rhythms of an unnatural disaster. Somewhere far away is what’s wanted: the vocal chords of a medical examiner weaving together to formulate a cause. Kink kink, bones disengage like our bodies in the cold.