poem: heavenly bastard in the sky

he said someday
you will see yourself on the other
side of the mountains, your face
in the trumpets of the yellow
sea. mongolian ash-trays cannot
see you; they see shadows, breasts
and hands where girls blink
and shit; he was
curled in a chair, his parts decriminalized
into yarn, reading
a white book. the trumpets go and
go. she said someday

you will see yourself on the other
side of broad winter faces
the cherry trees shaking like girls
about to say i love you
and ‘please don’t
leave me.’ you will leave, you will
come back, she will hang

her face on the window like a
skin, curled and peeling
and waiting.

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