Silliman's Papers

Damnation wrinkles around the eyes
Dear RJ,

In your lines I found the lines of my damnation
stacked stones tipping to falling stumbling
while you push

while I write flat lining.

I want your orange flower
your snow falling from a sugar packet
your red image on black and white.
But I labor
for a line
for a lie.

She sleeps passenger side
your girl
while I drive through MT hills and headlights.

I belong to the habit
& the memory of Metaphor Insomnia
        me with my second-born inheritance.

I’m standing ‘side
smoking another man’s cigarette, your cigarette
you’re the favored one
        beloved son
& I know you without you knowing me.
& I hide behind my
pretension imitations.

I was going to say your center doesn’t hold
then today I found the middle and with the middle, two ends
& your building danced

as I stood over Custer’s tomb on the highway side of chain smoking.

I can’t decide: Which of us do I hate?
I think this is a love letter.