It was August when you left for Texas Jackie Anne Morrill
After your leave,
(the act: an animal starving)
A humid run. Every morning
licked us like a wet dog.
You went/I went
(we went) lying
like trenches, solid
and black:
regretful as gasps
whistling through throats
of the organ your mother's
aunt used to play.
Louder the nerves as if tiny trapezers
clasp hands when our tongue tips
meet.
