OPEN AND OPEN
I want the truth in the amber
bottle, empty, beside you. The vomit
that sealed your lips.
The abundance of you and your addiction,
and the decay. I want you open
to a wholeness between us.
Not this fissure. Not this blank country
shorn of what is true. I want
the weight of your truth
to arrive the way that bright summer
afternoon and its black SUV
pinned me to asphalt,
opening fresh holes in my body.
Brother, the body’s only promise
is that it will open—
so much depends on this openness.
The wholeness of what is broken.