I am losing my mind in this
house– boring deterioration
of romance. Time is heavy
on the wings of expectation,
an invasion of pigeons into
the frame once marked for
a sacred arrival, a collapse
of constructed survival. The
sky strangles us with beaks,
bloodshot eyes, a crowd
hungry, hoping within
this scene’s a savior.


(originally published in The Cannon’s Mouth, Fall 2019)


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