you will never find bill under the milk again

It took me nice,
brandy on a spoon, cough
dissecting the syrup of your
milk medicine,

and it's all backwards from there.
moths, skin harbour, a grange...
a truck flattening
over road
 gravel spits
at my thumb.

i wanted to leave on a jet, but you told me they
were made of rubber bands, all
i can remember is how you blessed the
rams with serenity,
twisted jars

of honey, soft crooning in the suitcase field
and i have packed my expressions in with
a little twisting, though i recall how my testes
once sat pretty on your christmas tree,
with me buttered to the floor
and you like a pretty angel on the star point,
well, you let me lick at the ham sack.

i guess your cruelty showed in the twinkles,
my tongue is the only part of me you
wouldn't hack, after i had chewed off
your left nipple-
my teeth chatter about in the jug,
i think they line the bottom like little soldiers
heretofore they saluted your anarchy
with pearl.

now you have a geyser of milk like i had
with your soft pull of me, nail clamped,
rubbing tsunamis to lid the bucket with
fresh corpses of me and the ghost of our
child,

tough as it was
to remember not to savage myself in the
white of your eyes or get trapped
in your lashes.

it was swift seasons of this, teetering on
avoidance, or horsing around on the hay
cart, lumping my heart to the prose
of your dry wall, or was it pen-scratch? i stitched ink to your cream, a radish scent of thigh, flickered like glowworms and rabbited my way into your gloryhole.

but the orchards lifted their veil
and the sweetness promised soured with skyline,
but i flipped a dog chain on it's cloud wisp length
and sailed over to the oceans death, where my
asshole was mirrored, my name like fish scales
glinting, an ache you could say was like
every blood fist clotting
inside the memory of love; or just something
like fisting.

it's so homely to call me 'precious', 'bill' can't
be all there is to the well scratch of your pining
nor will milk soothe, i see it splashing out from you-
the thousand colours beneath blackness
scrambled in the bleach closet, its all just white
love leaking out, slinking inside the picture frame,
a body of expression bucketed, dancing

undone- i slithered across you, or away
on the birds' track, the rainbow way,

i remember love,
bitch.