sunny morning-eight legs

we don’t have wedding rings,
and that would change little
with the monogamy of a gaunt dog, draped sheets, diagonal position-reflected kneecaps—
and in secret i am so much more.

that would change little
once the truth of monogamy exposed its front,
and in secret, i am so much more
when you turn off the lights.

once, the truth of monogamy exposed its front
naked and bleeding and stuttering,
“when you turn off the lights,
are you ever sure there’s another body in your bed?”

naked and bleeding and stuttering—
the dog walks in.
are you ever sure there’s another body in your bed?
i only count the dog’s and mine.

the dog walks in
after the act;
i only count the dog’s and mine—
legs that is.

after the act,
the dog and i sleep and dream of the same thing—
legs that is.
we are now counting yours.

the dog and i sleep and dream of the same thing;
you wonder why i like this painting.
we are now counting yours:
you father’s you neighbor’s you mailman’s legs.

you wonder why i like this painting.
i want to know how did i end up on freud’s canvas.
you father’s you neighbor’s you mailman’s legs
all remind me.

i want to know how did i end up on freud’s canvas
with the monogamy of a gaunt dog, draped sheets, diagonal position-reflected kneecaps—
all remind me
we don’t have wedding rings.