I went to the fancy new restaurant yesterday in Tribeca They brought me parts of you, your wrist holding an African Daisy, your belly button in a dollop of caviar, your tongue smooth as a lemon slice, and your lovely blood in a snifter. I fell back off my chair laughing full with you and whispered hatred for God. Now I am taking you out of me, carving myself out and pulling you bone by bone so you may live even among this heaped wanting that is never cured, even among the billions of hearts pumping and the terror of all that movement. I’ve packed you a blue sweater with a hummingbird on it. I’ve packed you a pair of gloves, I wouldn’t want those hands to get cold.