Cruise Missile

He glimpsed her in silks
and his candid memory recorded
another possible moment
having nothing and everything
to do with passion.

But somehow it wasn't sex anymore;
it was the memory of smells,
it was the recognition of her muscles
in a series of different temperatures,
it was the words written on
the sides of his throat unable to escape
his pride or his psychosis

& so his expiation is this series
of kinetic singular moments
when his ex-lover is revealed
like a demiurge, strategic, ravishing,
a cruise missile targeted on his heart,
which lays carefully on the lachrymose
silk pillow of his bullshit guilt


1993
(Post breaking up with Bradway.)