i. To Anthony—

                                                                           Help me to move past this into the arms of love
                                                                      since it’s about pricks getting pricked by the needle
                                                                 that sticks, voices in wax making of hurt a hit,
                                                            wit so sharp as yours might suffice in killing it,

                                                       since it’s about pricks getting pricked by the needle
                                                  tattooing telegrammatic laughs into skin,
                                             wit so sharp as yours might suffice in killing it
                                        off, this wanting so hard to scrub from us what feels

                                   too much like luck, not enough destiny feeding
                              on our intensity, burying in deserts
                         of scorched flesh carcasses of fatalism suns left
                    for shadows, making jackals of jaws closing in

               on our intensity, burying in deserts
          ghosted partners radiating singles who go
     for shadows, making jackals of jaws closing in
fewer words what I promise will hurt tomorrow.

                                                                                                    ii. To Matthew—

                                                                           Hidden variables have resolved to lead me
                                                                      there, cycles of seven worn by the Universe
                                                                 like soiled underwear toil as they always have, bared
                                                            thighs of boring guys reminding me not to go

                                                       there, cycles of seven worn by the Universe
                                                  down to their elements move like jelly, spreading
                                             thighs of boring guys, reminding me not to go
                                        gently but to fill them with light, enlivening

                                   minds dulled by my shine using wisdom unsullied
                              by misattributed quotation confusing
                         its origin, reassuring with confidence
                    that, ‘In twenty-one days, what you need will appear,’

               by misattributed quotation confusing
          translation, ‘What you don’t will fade away,’ saying
     that in twenty-one days, what you need will appear,
as real and impermanent as my love has been.