You

I scream Antigone to the dark sad night,
or is it agony, or is it uplift,
I can give you all of that.
I can make a sweet dream
out of the outside of your hand,
you were making sweet stuff
out of the bad stuff all along.
Your face in a dream
the last few nights.
I don’t care where your loins have been.
A beautiful jaw,
a beautiful face,
your strange absence in this place.
A vacancy in my heart,
my head,
that has no substitute.
It’s brunch,
simply brunch,
and I’m buying?