flay.

   your body
   lies there and I love it
   even more now the color of milk
   the sun at the window rises and sets
   on you
   breath cakes at your lips
   but you add so much more to speech than
   the blurbs which talk on television
   the room heaves with its dust
   cracks blow little storms
   I can't hear birds
   the mountains
   stare back your silhouette
   a railroad train is pulling metal parts
   the mounted pictures of birds
   on my walls where they hang in the sun
   are coming unglued