Luisa Giugliano, p.2


The marked memory of the way you stood by a window, the way you
     spoke of infiltration and leakage.

Alkaline and problem words, hand sewn words, words I acquired
     and numbered
sets of distinct squares and united parcels of space.

Why did you refuse to sign the memory documents I presented.
You were here, you stood in this place once, I remember.

                    My water    parenthesis    tower        his water tower exponent.

Mine collapsing multiplied and fragile,
his steel lighthouse with its divided natural curves,
my window with additional termites,
his baseboard   my subtracted white speck of paint,

                    white mouse,


                    coal fire,

                    red corduroy dress,

                              his corduroy pants clicking under a small tavern table.