what it means to utter a word

[ what it means to utter a word. ]

Then nothing. A swallow of love passes through my chest.
Such steely recognition must be a damaged body.
Add romantic. Add bailing out. And then
add the troubling bits, forever.
I think about this sometimes,
how, among the pieces, you don't want to know.
This is the genuine self, but generally I do without.
Beneath the house, a threat. Who’s family secret
threatens the subframe? Grill of floorboards.
A ramshackle house. How many worlds in this
blink of an eye? My heart hangs out of its pocket,
appears to dwell in the air, only only only only
its weeping is not still. I miss your mashed potatoes.
I drop from your handkerchief of sky, lost wren.
Then the sound of dishes being broke. So farewell,
or is that it's a pleasure to meet you. And that's all,
says Desire, to soften my resistance. Someone's in
the kitchen breaking dishes. Each final scream.
The dream bread falls through the dream;
the how about I cannot live without you.
In its destructive path how hyacinths.
Your hair smells of petunias and chipped glass.
You have to do everything now yourself.
After you start up again in those get-on-with-it
stilettos, those daisies and violets and hyacinths.
And those roses. You ask yourself.
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