Here’s to what could have happened
many warm nights ago, in high

rain. My older love over, living
out his last days in Rome—
here’s to the missing hat, the returned hat,

nevermind: your slight, the deeper
station, your long missing eyes,
the shade of them, the young sleepers.

Here’s to what did happen, your
followed arrow song, followed
and following, farther and

further into a
telescop-
ic here’s what might happen—

open your swallowing factor,
your better news, tongue
hanging
over teeth, touching
the lip, barely, on

the bottom, the stream of a funnel
of air, suck-
ing in the breeze, the waft of

me,
bruised eye,
mercy-breathing, sold-out

body, hit-hard armature, my
bad credit, debts and allegations.
Take in
the walking foot, the one, the last stance.