Do You Even Know You Did Something Wrong You Dumb Animal?

I just can’t get a read on you

and this magnifying glass

is opaque but still I see a fossil

of a dinosaur with a peg leg

and a name that is unmistakably

yours, even when read this way

look, all I want is to hug your

biggest tooth, to feel your scaly

breath against my too human

humdrum face, fog my unfocused

lens, drive a claw into my pillow

cheek, a nail of a kiss piercing

deeper than the usual affection

and through all this blood I

will know that we are two monsters

totally comfortable with sex in beds.

It Was a Discovery!

When I discover my dinosaur I will name it after you

as my way of saying that I’m sorry for the avalanche

& for allowing you to roll away with it, & so he won’t

feel bad using your toothbrush, or taking your calls,

and in your honor, he will eat things both horrible

and awesome, the moon being one and cats being

the other, and when I clean his teeth I will think of you

then too, and tell him that his namesake was allergic

to moon rock, but how that didn’t stop him from leading

a large, unruly pack of cats to a kind of revolution absent

of meows or bloodshed, and I will miss you, but be tired

already, of your name.