then closed my eyes, thought of night, of the moon bobbing through it, like an Adam’s apple plucked out, bobbing through a dark absence of throat, oh silent & unkissed—that’s how I wanted you to suffer, too, boy who wouldn’t look at me. Seeing you run so beautifully on the track that afternoon, I wanted you to suffocate, breath-starved from all the miles you’d run away from me.
