Crossing
Kim Addonizio
I stash my heart in my boot.
I’ve got a broken knife for you.
You’re not dying for love,
you’re not even injured.
Not a scratch, not a nick,
no throb in the bones,
no slight headache
starting behind the eyes.
I’m walking on a dead ocean
all the fish in my body in free fall.
I adore you sinkingly.
You’re what. You’re whom.
In every room. A dog starts racketing:
it’s you. Siren
ratcheting off the blue.
I tie myself to the table.
I bolt myself to the bed.
When the phone’s black call comes
I light another silence in my head.