It’s been a while.
I saw you undress in my mind.
Saw your figure so perfect from
distance.
Saw it imperfect in glances
underneath me,
with folds and moles.
Saw the light of the closet
cracked into the darkness of
the bedroom.
Disheveled, unorganized, and
human,
decorporatized for a moment,
like grapes on untended vines,
a vineyard
beyond the reach of the census.
Decorporatized when we lay
with each other
in fire and blood,
smashed
in fire and blood
together
in darkness
where we needed a reaching,
so we reached for the light
enclosed in our cell.
Our ancestors last human
in the restaurants
of the middle class
dreaming the way that
kept them sleeping.
The lights, the lights,
they’re golden around there,
dreaming the way that
kept them sleeping.