Instructions for the Lovers
The lover was here and then was not. This is always the case. The lover persists in loverness and then, poof. Not poof poof but out of the kitchen and casual nakedness. The lover is a long tail though. Whipping around. Not understanding the sublime beauty of respite. I used to fuck almost any body out of starvation hunger that splits the one into many and leaves you arching toward a stinky mattress on a floor. It could be. I could have been. Times when the world dissolved into waves. Who knows that kind of blurry nothingness. Nothing is due. The more my father died the more mattresses. Floors and car interiors. Dirt. Dark air. Hallways. Un-destinations. Railway car junkie smelling of Eau Sauvage Dior.
______________________________
From Instructions for The Lovers by Dawn Lundy Martin (Nightboat Books, 2024). Copyright © 2024 by Dawn Lundy Martin. Reprinted with permission of Nightboat Books.
