XXXXXXX

ODE TO A DEPARTED LOVER AT DAYBREAK*


O, my plum! My lump!
Somber stone of
my awakening.

Above the weeping table
your scent hangs
heavy as an iron kettle.

I drown in the chipped bowl
of your laughter, deserted
like the dwarf whores at dawn.


*with apologies to Pablo Naruda. whose style I was emulating.