The man in my room
brings electricity,
a chair, and a location on his charred tongue.
He is love from a loveless world.
He is everyone I don’t know the names of.
In his full stomach is a life I escaped from, or never
entered. Standing between my open closet
and unbroken bed, electricity arced down
his body to revive the damages
of his one, perfectly-fitted life.
I am the boy he drags out of one painful dream
and into another. My ankles in
his hands, he pulls me towards his
lonesome chair, sitting
in front of the closet he crawled
out of, punched open like a coffin,
and it feels too real. The moon is half out and he shoves
his tongue / location halfway down
my throat before pulling away
tasting luck in the flesh
of my tender mouth. I tell him I love him
and he winces, then lets go, my cheeks shy
with his blood print, glassy like eyes
in between shocks. It doesn’t come off easily.
It sizzles, and I know this song,
this crackle of a beat.
I too hum this electricity behind a man’s back.
