but i love you helen of troy

yesterday i kicked the door open
and now it swings like a broken arm

i do not think of what i have not
i do not think of what i have

i suppose i have not a drink.
i have not got a drink and god

damn it if it doesn't sing to me sweetly
of its taste that helen

of troy. i suppose i have not got
helen of troy though i dream of her breast in the cage of my hand

and when i see her sometimes i see her--
helen of troy and i want to swear at the stars and get

mad but i turn it inside to curdle,  the milk of my long
lethargic sadness.

yet i have this window big window and beyond it
flowers nosebleed bright

i have this little grey cat sleeping silently beside me
and ginger in my mouth

it's a sweet thing my anonymous mama says
a good thing, al, indeed

that helen of troy reminds you that your heart is
just barely stirring, waking

seethe for her eyes and weep for the cruelty of it
stretch our your wrists and commence to embrace the snake pit

you are splayed on the ground you are already leaving your
pyre is lit

and just as for helen surely for you
it awaits