Winter sat like a wolf
on the horizon.

I imagined a cascade of slow death for all / that mattered…

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

He has stories that I am not in
anymore. It’s healed this way.

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

Should have found a job by now; should have slept in the night;
should have boiled old coffee before noon.

the man is stayed bent over the canvas
of my sofa. the man is me the man is him
self and I bring down the whip…

you quit wearing pants
loaf around your yard
in hole-nipped panties

You let the yellow glow
from eye sockets. The building up the street
is burning faster and faster.

Try not to see your own predicament in every fucking thing.

and then her eyes fully opened — blazed through with strands of mud

We stop doing dishes while
a mile unwinds
from the tree outside.

Mostly he ate what was put on his plate
snuck coffee grounds or dirt for a snack
Once a zipper Unzipped

Just starlight and some small scribbling across vinyl.

If America is Babylon / and you are an exile / newly arrived among pagans / Catholic, ‘Ngolan, Black, woman / you already know how to pray

Ma wrings
a wet world
of colors