The Sun Also Sets

Whoever you thought you were
standing on a stack of tombstones
& change your precious meat-shaped
dreams to shots of tequila
against whatever you really are
pumps the end-of-summer haze
that drops in to crease your heart
& drag the blade across
Aphrodite’s wrist (plumes of mist
              flying back off the feathered
                              lip of the wave like
                                                absolution