Ten million sleeping words between dry teeth
wake up. Wake up, you are not fully dressed.
Oh, children bound to ash and brick beneath
a pair of dimpled sheets (across her breast)
clutch moments you would never understand.
Oh, Juliet dry your tears. Keep breathing.
Take this; do what you please. Find me, and
wake from your sleep. If I find seething
but one rose laid across a phantom limb,
I will put my arms to rest. So you paint
yourself nude over gold pearls and it’s him.
Take my lips--take my chin--without restraint.
Oh, this had better not leave two scars.
No ticket. No Gun. We are dead. We are...