His hair falling over his eyes
wide open his hair can barely
hide them. His mouth on her
mouth. His sound down
her throat. Her body
beyond coral blown
up in the dark,
beyond limbs thrown
down a hole. Her body
beyond apology. His sound
inside her stammering,
softer, slick as guitar music,
track five, circa speeding
down the highway to
the beach, eleven years old,
uncle yammering about the cost
of cement and labor for
the new room, still
unbuilt, for the baby,
still unborn.