He said

Something like an iceberg
he said
and i suppose if we mean that an iceberg
betrays and a ship assumes, yes.

wild and briny and dripping with the sea
he doesn't say but he would if he knew

soft skin and vintage furniture
he says and he is just a child

i do not like being ignored
he says

i hate you he doesn't say

may i take your picture
he says

the light is hot on my face
we talk about art and ideas

mortar between stones
string between soup tins

these capriccios
these pronouns
this collected adonis

dead bugs in the bottom of a jar

their pretty wings tore
their lovely light turned orange
and stopped

just stopped 

and now there is no light in my room