For Jane
Charles Bukowski

225 days under grass
and you know more than I.

they have long since taken your blood,
you are dry stick in a basket.
is this how it works?

in this room
the hours of love
still make shadows.

when you left
you took almost
everything.

I kneel in the nights
before tigers
that will not let me be.

what you were
will not happen again.

the tigers have found me
and I do not care.