Purifying the big bang

It’s freezing this summer

and there’s a hope

that in the cold

we learn to swim

with our head floating above the ice

or at least

higher than the others

who didn’t learn the lesson

that it is best to better

and best of all to be better

than that

*

I’m in the shower

though not when writing

only thinking about writing

and about her

and how I’d describe her

with her clothes off

and her bum wet

and her legs soaked

and her arms

hairy, short arms

that look like dying grass

and in this shower

with the white against her beige

the soap scum against her skin

me against her

and about how I shouldn’t describe

but feel her

see her

complete her

and I do

while she feels and sees and completes me

and the plot arcs

then flips

because it’s more comfortable

then climaxes

and we come down

to a bathroom that needs

to be cleaned

and a dirtier desire

to leave it worsened

with the wet clumps

of us

*

I am told that

break ups are a part of love

but I wonder if

love is a part of break ups

or

is all of it lost

in the leaky mass of everything

distilling to a point

of no return