Tea for Whoever’s Left

Untouched cheeks
plague me like
gum in my stomach.
My heart is too aware of them:
it sends out chemical warriors
to cleanse body and mind
of thin-armed remembrances.
Like the tender turf of a battlefield
my spirit is impressed
with the sound of hoof-beats.
As I clean up afterward,
sorting shield and sword,
ghosts of the fallen beg me
to lessen desire, lessen desire.