we drove on through
the blue seal of morning as the turbines
turned and winked out their hearts

I want to roll in this moment until I become its vocabulary
until I smell like the bones
until I am its echo…

You said it was okay to blame
what goes wrong on the planet

I suffer visions and many indignities
while looking for the Lobster

the strands of your hair on the bathroom tiles aren’t sketching defeat. that’s you spitting disease in the face with another day you’ve woken up to.

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

Even as the sun warms the concrete
the long nights’ sensual cold lingers in my clothes.

I am not a guide
for every traveler
of loss.

Now that the Israeli has left, it falls
on me to make the salad.

In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers,
my back a misguided quote

you know that
baby swallows make silver ripples
in wild rivers to court reeds?

Lights on the dashboard spell out
“You still can’t kiss me”

a folksome, gruesome opera
of gauze and malcontent.

If my life was the size of my arm, I would stretch it out for you.

here is the sky in stop motion, flickering,
a still shot in monochrome

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