Our car fell off
the cliff
thrice;
the last time
into the lake…
The water has a hole in it:
I’m cutting windows out
of the passenger seat.
I’m cutting glass
out of your throat
where the clicking
eccentric pulse
is swiveling like a rogue planet.
Gargling blood
and treading water,
I hear your garbled voice
but I need advice
in hypothermic mint.
I kissed you
your dying lips
during the erratic dusk
as your eyes
fluttering and parasitic
glazed over the mountains
into reverie.
