Howl

The way he left bruises on the backside of my arms

The way he rolled a cigarette

That tongue, licking the paper just enough

Looking at me through his lids

Always half-closed

He disappeared for days at a time

Again

Distraught, I nosed through his papers

I was his Saint Bernard

Searching for his scent

In poetry, unspoken

Thoughts shared only to the grave

Woven in leather, and

Ivory tusks rolled smooth and thin

With fibers of reality reminding me

This too shall end.

Oh despair, hung obvious on a can-can girl’s thigh

I loved you too much.

Left behind in the shadow of the moon

With a stray cat and empty wallet

Do you remember me

And the way I made you howl.