I consider the push of the needle the liquid
bedroom your face in the syringe the warm
& the happy consider the sharp the bright
back of your hand as you leave & the face
of a friend rattling with teeth. I burn
my arm with his spoon to forget. He sinks
the floor. The bucket with vomit before me:
the smell of his inside. There’s an indent on the back of
his head & a map on the bend of his arm
built of collapsing. Of your leaving & my
please please please
& how & why did it come to this—