I see you running. Your legs
tear through the air, leave silk
tattered in their wake.
I knew you’d run. As we rolled over
in bed, I saw the signature curve
of your outlaw mouth.
A bandana could never keep it dark.
Your teeth shine through fabric,
generate their own suns.
They will hang you, but it will not
kill you. I imagine your homecoming.
I run my fingers over the permanent
twist in your neck. I cannot believe