Eve Rounds

you don’t know what you’re missing

a smug angle
the snide side
of
my glass is mother fucking
full
of yeses
thousands
of thank yous
infinite
more pleases

this fierce veracity

at first
only touch it
soon
the need to tug and tug and tug
then instantly
keeeeeep
a stillness waiting for the windstorm
yet still no sleep.

but ok but

write some poems that i can give him ok (but they’ll all be about the hims) good idea bad idea no good twinning and losing

a 5 7 5 for e

peering through thick glass your back to me is waiting any news at all? running down broad steps into your brotherly arms crying without breath!

incircles

is it the ticking of the third hand or the faucet dripping onto discount bulk blueberries both measuring time “going in circles” as he would

a poem about you for you (and you)

you are your own though your temperament reminds me of him your head is more ripe mango while his was more soft plum my love

i don’t even know

how long it’s been. haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar. haven’t bothered to reread my own words. haven’t been missing you

the five senses

your blue eyes and crooked lippy smile which i inherited that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head the white corvette a campfire cards