Dan Rosenberg

you burn before me in miniature
color you hold in your hands a bird
heart it      seems unnecessarily
life-like in its red and its ending
      you seem to want me to buy it but

you are caught light on the tv screen
only a womb for wanting a bird
heart       you drape me with discounts offered
in blood color blinking against my

eyes       I want to synchronize but you
are now a dirty truck pillaging
two breasts you teeter between       sovereign
of only beer while the voiceover
calls its vulture call for my heart flesh

and I am half above the couch when
the signal snaps into static       or
you cease addressing me and turn to
snowfall poorly represented your
face a half pattern my eyes water
to find       I am standing right here my
lord I will buy my heart from your hands
if you but show a part of your face
to this mud clutching mud before you