Pulse (bug poem)

you crawled into my bed that night
like some sort of giant insect
and i found myself spellbound
at the sight of you,
beautiful and grotesque and all the rest of that bug stuff
bluffing your way into my mouth
behind my teeth, reaching for my scars-
that night we got kicked out of two bars
and laughed our way home

that night you leaned over
and threw up into your hair
and i held you there, thinking-
i would offer you my.....pulse
if i thought it would be useful
i would give you my breath,
except,
the problem with death
is that we have some hundred years
and then they can build buildings on our only bones
100 years, and then your grave is not your own
and we lie in out beds, and our graves
unable to save ourselves
from the quaint tragedies we invent- and undo,
from the stupid circumstances we slalom through

and i realized that night that the hall light,
which seemed so bright when you turned it on,
is nothing-
compared to the dawn
which is nothing-
compared to the light
which seeps from you while you're sleeping,
cocooned in my room-
beautiful and grotesque,
resting

that night we got kicked out of two bars
and laughed our way home

i thought-
i would offer you my pulse,
i would give you my breath
i would offer you my pulse,
i would give you my breath