bankrupt

the fingers are dry, the skin cracking

a play list of songs on going on the tongue
of the girl alongside me, i trade positions

and play her a song of my own to let
my fingers bleed on the strings and strands

when the brushed grain's oil dried to a crack
to match the fingers that caress the body

a fine piece of architecture in my lap
and a cat at my feet to her who cried

until the bed was wet with all the sad
songs we shared on this cold and dry morning