Of all the mixed up boys
I’ve been, all the names

I’ve taken in this world
that has to happen, I don’t

know the name of this new
thing. This thing I’ve let settle

down throughout me,
which spreads itself enormously

like unfurling skeins
of creosote and becomes

me. Far off, the artillery
flashes, and I miss the boys

I’ve been, kissing at the girls
with long legs, and stupidly

unafraid of the darkening tides
surrounding and then within.