there is no echo in my garden

even i have said the words before

i know the wind


i bit into something that should

never have grown here


even i have told the lies before

(i know you try to shower with

your sterling on)


a bitter california

hard and unbearably orange

asked me to wish her luck

but even I have tried to stop the wind

from blowing there


i’ll fly over her in a plane

and try to guess which fleck of light is yours

i’ll gawk at every tunnel you pass holding hands


for all the plans i never understood

i sign my own name illegibly upon

your sternum

as you go


even i have held the mirrors up

to sing at them of my no longer

dwindling resources


even i have forced them

to look at me still