marriage is a sacrament

of love and pleasure

and aching and pain;

when you hit the windowsill

and the sky fills your brain

–  hush, my love –

become soft and stay this way

like kafka

 

walk the house, and do it quiet,

like a mouse – i knew once

of a tiny mouse who ran until he couldnt

and they trapped him with peanut butter and sweetness

 

(keep running; you will escape it one day)