All this talk in every way a channel tunnel 
of kid gloves and landmines went underground. 
 
You were attractive my limbs 
in sequels and spoofs, commemoration my organs 
 
with friends gone by the board, whose names like patients’ names. 
Our clumped covet stirs and how 
 
when unwound, as with DNA, it sweetly wounds us. 
Wish in the propriety place, you said, is upon misplaced 
 
or no wait at all. But I clout, in my dreams I day-dream, 
in my dreams I do not hope. 
 
Where were you when was I? Counting down 
the decades in behalf of the gain as sacrificial lamb of our previous war. 
 
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