to build an unfaltering home

_{she taught me how to read, so it is best heard: soundcloud.com/c-e-moore/to-bu…}

only with you
can i mock
the utter idiocy and lack
of sense about how
the pacific is a warm-water
anomaly to the poetic iciness
of her experiences.

only with you would i
wish for karma
to take a luscious bite
of my fictitious Adam's
apple and my unfreckled,
calcium-deprived
skin; with you, i believe i could

sit for hours, watching in disgust
the utter power time can have
over the end of a crackling
frequency, substituting
poorly

for touch.

(yes, you would,
awkwardly
at best --
it is enough)

we have chopped, killed
and savoured all our victims
in the comforts
of our too-virgin, too-clumsy,
too-everything-keeping-us-from-
being-people-who-flatter-themselves-
our-enemies;

yes, i
fancy different giggles
and killers of time but you,
my home of a friend, you
wish the same foundations
that built you from scratch, (casting
your brother off a piano bench, stepping
on that one butterfly,
singing me that one song,
asking me that one time what took me
so damned long) for me,

for my feeble, crippling form, stitched
together with lessons and "i'm here"s
sobbed into day long audio notes
of apologies.

dear konstantine, the number
of suns that damned doctor saved many
hundreds of years ago cannot hold
a stray flame to the fire

licking and caging your bandaged,
plastered heart.

my konstantine,
you are the home
i return to without ever
leaving.