like a burning city

so what if i die of shame?
in times and temperatures like these, in
haunted beds like these,
her thrilling coldness
(and the equally thrilling knowledge
of how easy she is to melt)
fucks me as if i were more than a crying computer
or a monkey they taught calculus.
i have no language, no grace extended,
no good legs for balance—
all i can call mine is this pain in my side
and her kiss on my coffee cups.
i tease her to put a fork in a socket, to drown a wire,
to get what lesser men get through less charming means.
i throw away my phone, turn a key.
shame is a bargain for a heartbeat.