You do no wrong so well. Man falls upward–

crease in your shirt & in your heart. Reeks of

sandalwood untruths. Drag me lobe-first. Untie

your tie & tie me till I’m dry.

/

You do no wrong so well. Scramble, shoes

off, he wouldn’t much like that–the dirt,

the grime– the celebrated victimhood. Wrong

has never looked so right.

/

You do no wrong so well, the hardest part

is keeping a straight face, man. Fall back-

ward into me & tell me something like

you love me?

/

You do no wrong so well, I think you’re

hand thrown. Dropped in glaze, molded

in malice. A centimetre away from something

other than loveable.