your bracelets jingle with the sound of thunder

look what you have done to me
i have become verbose, obese
with these words i have let myself
go, a new diet of empty calorie,
emotional words. this bloated
poet is standing in a well-lit
room with you and your lover
i was sent by assassins i was
supposed to be covert i was
supposed to sabotage but i
am standing in plain sight
the mission is over i gave
myself up too soon. i just
watch, a door-to-door
salesman with a foot caught
in the frame trying to pitch
my brilliant cleaning product
it is a bargain i swear you
can trust me i can see into
your home you offered it
generously but i am also
a real estate agent and i
am an excellent surmiser
of spaces yours is indeed
enormous but i am a tall
man that likes to stretch
and i'm afraid there is
already someone else
living in there with you.
someone grab the hook
this man is taking a brodie,
he's playing to the haircuts,
he'll just be three-sheeting
after the show you shouldn't
have let him into the country
the poet-protester is going
to hold signs outside your
factories he will not work
you have a hill to yourself
in italy you said your old-
movie impressions were
impeccable you did not
give me enough memories
i feel cheated but i didn't
like where the film was
headed anyway. touch my
face do not touch my face
i kissed you on the forehead
when i was drunk i should
not have done that did you
even feel it? i was blunt as
a hammer that night i was
a danger to myself i was
swung violently in circles
by you i wanted to smooth
your hair with my hands
i wanted to run my fingers
through it like water i wanted
to be clean and sober and
the music was throwing itself
against the basement ceiling
i swore it splintered the floor
boards. you were brachiating
from arm to arm in the crowd
i couldn't keep up i couldn't
see that high into the canopy
i was picking insects out of
bark on the forest floor, filthy.
love yourself always and do
not invite strangers into your
home. if the warm air of confusion
collides with a cold front of guilt
do not let the storm funnel out
of your control i know you this
well i am familiar with the
complexities of your meteorology
i have seen it within you, storm
child, i have seen what you leave
in your wake and it is not all
destruction you brought me
rain. it is spring and something
was growing for a time. you
did that.

jupiter's heart is visible,
you can almost see it with
the naked eye. it beats with
light; a pulse millions of miles
away from me, beautiful and
in the company of many moons.