Three.
"Memory Love."
"In the yellow afternoon I watch your eyes, green,
as the glass that washes up on New Hampshire beaches.
Behind them, a dead brother, a lover who
married someone else, the Brattle Theater,
a clump of reeds against a screen of sumac,
the Berkshires, October.
These made into words sting like poison, drug like poison.
Memory.
Love.
Bitter itch from the flip of your words,
your laughter, your face turning away, away.
I trace the hollow between your neck and shoulder.
Honing words to slip like razors under your skin.
I am as speechless as the dead.
I would kill you if I could.
I will kill you as soon as I can."