Traces

falling down

Would you trace the scars on my hand

for a resolution

a declaration that might mean something.

Would you watch the day

as it bleeds away and bathe in the constellations.

Would you listen to the sins

of the moon as they pour onto my face

and trace the scars on my hand:

my absolution.

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Miss Susan

Miss Susan

Will you stay with me, Miss Susan
help me forget the cold ahead,
enshroud me in your saffron arms,
relieve me of this malcontent.
Will you stay with me, Miss Susan
comfort me, but is there still time?
Keep your glowings burning, dear
’til the end of your days decide.

Complicated

complicated

All our warm and complicated flesh,

meager, eager, fevered for rest,

the sweetness, then nakedness burnished,

idly worshiped, and now

the mornings, steeped with stinging dew, but

it is through,

and we have done well.

Wake up

The finer things

Wake up,
It’s time to be invisible.

Watered-down hand sanitizer in the men’s room

Laughter from a joke you’re not in on

Coca-Cola cans from the vending machine

past expiration date. Continue reading “Wake up”