I brought her my plan

on a seasoned plate
it arrived lukewarm
and out of date
to her, that is
to me it was fate
fully roasted and turned
in a way meant to divulge
in a way unperturbed
by the sins it was charged
some things leave me
weathered from youth even now

these things I remember
I said some things
on some things I acted
it was the moon, she said
and the clouds that distracted
and I pulled the cork

on a bottle of red
better off silent

better off wed to
the heat of the night
to the sweet dense air

when I wake from this
I will still be here
hung over maybe but
free of resistance
it’s a walk in the park
under the moon
it’s a song of a lark
it is mine, this fortune
it is mine this dark

it is mine this ruin