“Write me out and let me
Drip dry against your paper stacks;
Let me into your cities and let me
Become the delicate brushes of your fine print.
I want nothing more than immortality,
Nothing smaller than rose petals on
You screamed to me as if on a cliff
As if I could
Tell you death was always a lie,
And somehow make you change your views of life and desire
With a few commas and run-on sentences.