I take out my ruler and measure love,

Love in bruises and hollows.

See the pinpricks: red purple black blue polka dots in celebration;

Tagged like some animal for tracking.

This not-love love,

Some anti-climactic switch

From forbidden to just secret.

I take out my camera and record love,

Zooming to atoms,

Checking places it visited last:

Lips bitten raw so sour burns like acrid metal

Wrists where shadows of the harpsichordist resonate.

I take out yesterday from my back pocket

And stuff it into a journal-

It oozes from between the pages,

contaminating my desk and my fingers,

from where I fear it cannot help but contaminate today.