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back.
    So, I said, now that we have our dead, what are we going to do with them?
    There's a black dog and there's a white dog, depends on which you feed,
    depends on which damn dog you live with.
    5
    Here we are
    in the wrong tunnel, burn O burn, but it's cold, I have clothes
    all over my body, and it's raining, it wasn't supposed to. And there's snow
    on the TV, a landscape full of snow, falling from the fire-colored sky.
    But thanks, thanks for calling it the blue sky
    You can sleep now, you said. You can sleep now. You said that.
    I had a dream where you said that. Thanks for saying that.
    You weren't supposed to.

Saying Your Names
    Chemical names, bird names, names of fire
    and flight and snow, baby names, paint names,
    delicate names like bones in the body,
    Rumplestiltskin names that are always changing,
    names that no one’s ever able to figure out.
    Names of spells and names of hexes, names
    cursed quietly under the breath, or called out
    loudly to fill the yard, calling you inside again,
    calling you home. Nicknames and pet names
    and baroque French monikers, written in
    shorthand, written in longhand, scrawled
    illegibly in brown ink on the backs of yellowing
    photographs, or embossed on envelopes lined
    with gold. Names called out across the water,
    names I called you behind your back,
    sour and delicious, secret and unrepeatable,
    the names of flowers that open only once,
    shouted from balconies, shouted from rooftops,
    or muffled by pillows, or whispered in sleep,
    or caught in the throat like a lump of meat.
    I try, I do. I try and try. A happy ending?
    Sure enough — Hello darling, welcome home .
    I’ll call you darling, hold you tight. We are
    not traitors but the lights go out. It’s dark.
    Sweetheart, is that you? There are no tears,
    no pictures of him squarely. A seaside framed
    in glass, and boats, those little boats with
    sails aflutter, shining lights upon the water,
    lights that splinter when they hit the pier.
    His voice on tape, his name on the envelope,
    the soft sound of a body falling off a bridge
    behind you, the body hardly even makes
    a sound. The waters of the dead, a clear road,
    every lover in the form of stars, the road
    blocked. All night I stretched my arms across
    him, rivers of blood, the dark woods, singing
    with all my skin and bone Please keep him safe.
    Let him lay his head on my chest and we will be
    like sailors, swimming in the sound of it, dashed
    to pieces. Makes a cathedral, him pressing against
    me, his lips at my neck, and yes, I do believe
    his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me
    like stars. Names of heat and names of light,
    names of collision in the dark, on the side of the
    bus, in the bark of the tree, in ballpoint pen
    on jeans and hands and the backs of matchbooks
    that then get lost. Names like pain cries, names
    like tombstones, names forgotten and reinvented,
    names forbidden or overused. Your name like
    a song I sing to myself, your name like a box
    where I keep my love, your name like a nest
    in the tree of love, your name like a boat in the
    sea of love — O now we’re in the sea of love!
    Your name like detergent in the washing machine.
    Your name like two X’s like punched-in eyes,
    like a drunk cartoon passed out in the gutter,
    your name with two X’s to mark the spots,
    to hold the place, to keep the treasure from
    becoming ever lost. I’m saying your name
    in the grocery store, I’m saying your name on
    the bridge at dawn. Your name like an animal
    covered with frost, your name like a music that’s
    been transposed, a suit of fur, a coat of mud,
    a kick in the pants, a lungful of glass, the sails
    in wind and the slap of waves on the hull
    of a boat that’s sinking to the sound of mermaids
    singing songs of love, and the tug of a simple
    profound sadness when it sounds so far away.
    Here is a map with a your name for a capital,
    here is an arrow to prove a point: we laugh
    and it pits the world against us, we laugh,
    and we’ve got