a haunting

          i remember when he came to me: newly
                         twenty-one, locked in the liquor and the sweet taste
                                        of sex. i was shifting gears down the highway, bottom-

                                        bottle-deep. he saw something in my eyes
                         reflecting back to him: a hunger. we were made
          of sweat and flesh. we were drugged up and silent

          as tombs till the lights turned. he had honey
                         eyes and a stubborn lip. he had sunlit hair and the shadow
                                        of satan over his slender shoulders. we carved

                                        jack-o-lanterns and kissed in the hardware
                         aisle, his lightning fingers finding the hem
          of my skirt, my teeth brushing his thunder-

          neck. once, i felt him breathe. once, i saw his pale
                         hands light bonfires and disappear
                                        up my shirt. once, i saw those same hands

                                        shake and shake and shake, traced
                         the track marks like lines made
          by pencils and paintbrushes, his art

          snuffed by the ever-present needles. the last time
                         i saw him, i tongued his veins and said a prayer
                                        for every one. it was halloween. witching hour.

                                        it was purple sky and falling leaves, red-garnet.
                         i was half-drunk, half-holy, floating in some
          graveyard by the river, a wreath of pink

          orchids beneath my feet. he’s so high (i licked
                         his lips in my sleep) he’s not breathing(i didn’t feel a thing
                                        when he left). his veins shown, like so many rivers

                                        in moonlight. they were looking
                         for an ocean, found a drought. he’s not breathing (if only
          i had been there) he’s gone (if only my body wasn’t

                                        such a good place to haunt).