Home Eulogy

Home Eulogy

Samson Malmoli

The next time I see you With moss on your ivy bearded vagina Sweltering clothesline construction faggots of precision Finally racing away from me as I to reading, drug use, over bridges I walk down the parks of your lowly street lights I miss you, I love you I may hardly recognize you the next time I come in your foliage Though the chance may be brief, or to my never return I might just smile and relax, in old ways Still caressing similarities, I’m sure I’ll find you in another gutter Picking the dirt off like me and old newspapers Like the old freedom I had in a dresser like yours But I hadn’t met you yet, grassy skyline of peach I love your grey and green Especially your tanned focus I’d still love to be in you But I missed my chance of rosebud suburbs And I missed wholesome cock love The dark punk girls slithering into a new home A youth of foraging You owe me and I still love you with the weight of my emotion My secret devotion to my family

All the adult you gave me I’ll miss you with old shoes The lustful sensitivity of your backgrounds All the hope you gave me The tunneling burden of my submarine-level feelings The next time I see you I may just be better Than you Or bleed in my sad of abandoning you Or the tarot card painstaking mothers of air and sadness I hope I will be like you or return to you If I need you I’ll usually just call