Sign Language

Read my lips, your name smeared all over them 

like someone choking, my last words before sleep


replaces dying for another night. I can 

all but imagine you here. The years, star-


crossed, ambiguous, solemn and desolate.  

A memory clenched between my teeth,


a hand coveting speech from overwhelmed fingers,

imagining what might be seen in the dark,


an approximate, wept dry, and imperfect presence.