I reap the praises from your lips,
those insouciant linens that
manacle the stutters in my love
(verbose monologues grazing inwarder
and inwarder until they break the meekest
streak of poise).
‘I keep you.’
Your tender spins the shell of the shell, envelops
the shivering shoulders of possible incompetence, my
All you say, you say
you said to keep me
for me despite me.