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

I have an axe
with hearts gashed

my love is a glass shard, a knife made of madness and moonlight,
and there are already way too many fragments in this house

Winter sat like a wolf
on the horizon.

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

I like to think I’m also sprung,
released from the furnace knocks,
done with the heavy meat stews
and salty soups.

my friends’ fathers are
dropping
I mean dying
like flies

We found in his suitcase T-shirts, his siddur, gifts he bought for his grandchildren…

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

and apples, mackintosh mostly, but any kind left in The Pub
at the Assisted Living Place

Ghosts for hire, whispers in her mouth,
cysts to feel, the symmetry of a gift.

Ma wrings
a wet world
of colors

Okay, picture this: We’re in an elevator. The elevator shuts down. It doesn’t matter where we’re going, only that we’re alone.

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

Every so often, they add a tattoo
in honor of some long-forgotten love.

There is so little left of the tomato plants.

Gravel-scatted hell &
we were blessed to be able
to hold on for even a heartbeat

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