Giving My Tuna

Another poem--because I've got nothing but poems... okay, no, but I wish. (Sorry Nora, about me just adding poems that I send you... it's probably somewhat repetitive for you.)


GIVING MY TUNA
boiled thoughts
I broil tuna
tuna thoughts that reek aloud
sometimes they seep afresh in my sleep,
I fear I speak unconsciously
--of her-- did she hear?
I'm shaking outside
my clothes dissolved, my freckles revealed
to leave the cure
inside a word
closed and upon
a tilted shelf

but, is perhaps too complicated
she loved me once
now both forget how
a word wants me,
my thoughts undermined,
despite the fear
I give my tuna