in morning

 

love is another thing
we count on our fingers

 

&

 

there’s a hornets’ nest
of sympathy
in the texts your ex deleted

 

let’s all hope
to be as warm
and meaningless
as a bodhisattva
or a bathtub

 

turn my name
into my name
into your name
into our name

 

empty my name
like an ashtray
or an envelope

 

empty my name
until you find
a place to fit your fingers

 

//

 

i don’t believe anymore
in grapefruit or palmwine
or the petitioning of thanks

 

the floorboards are louder
when you’re home

 

(you’re home)

 

//

 

we pushed another two fingers
between a rooftop
and a jawbone

 

//

 

my past was a church sign’s
worth of limbs
but we pray to house paint now

 

we pray to silent sheets
to the corners of our mouths
to each other’s chanting ceiling fans

 

we pray to sinks that drain
the way we’d always dreamt

 

to the thermostat
to the empty bags

 

we pray to each other by fingertip
us there
sweating in the unwashed sunlight
through the blinds

 

 

 

 

About the Author

Zooey Ghostly is a bag of cashews spilled onto the sidewalk.