I don’t want to come back here/ in a ghost cover
bed unkept for your return/ do you return?
There where you laid/ lain down to curl/ an arch
I curled around this bed/ maybe all angels are
terrible, but angels is not your/ terrible so good,
so good to me?/ Lord you put your fingers
in my elbows and dance me/ scanty like this bed.
This guy! Paris Review!
Justification: list, no now/ list, or perhaps you mean to give into hands— palm lace now teeth made to pits and I’m sins, so oh so many sins.