After

a man is writing at a desk reclining

in the wet flood of an English night

white ruthless woman I barely know

here

I keep forgetting her name

I come to a wiggle of silver and

murmuring

someone keeps writing

I can see where I come from

clustered flowers you can pluck and eat

can you remember?

I’m led to where I’m told to remove everything below the waist

here

this I understand

a good thing , all things considering

bleeding

return to the writing man reclining just there

the man rolls over

here I am

I do not know

I can feel they are gathering bits of me

how like a writer

careful with evidence

before I’m ready I feel

confused for a minute

I am holding the hand of a stranger

and think of

the man

goodbye

wrong again

he goes back and writes sad-eyed