Cloud Pantoum
Tell me that you do not think of me, that you
have forgotten the wild proscenium of cloud,
how bodies affix and then elide, the sky’s
stenography. I only ask for you to tell me
you have not forgotten the pink proscenium
of cloud, a testament to our duplicities, the sky’s
stenography. I ask for you to tell me again
that you do not think of me, all the implications
of cloud, a testament to my duplicities, the sky.