When the moon is full you come home to me.
Your skin smells like exo-pussy.
I am full of you and want you gone.
You want to be with her. She
remains a nameless heavenly being: Goddess.
I, your ball and chain, am done with your godlessness.
The moonlight makes a beacon of your hacksaw.
I saw myself free and throw my anchor into the trench.
Drench myself in freedom, the sun always comes up
until it doesn’t. This marriage is a science fiction.
My heart is a cold planet.
You are plutonium, (Pu)
a radioactive bad smell.
Take your Persephone to your condo in Pluto.
Relieved to be done, I am swinging on a ring of Saturn laughing
down at you.