passed like a wavering wristwatch.
teeth quietly chattered.
the spider-leg-frizzy occiput.
raw morning shampoo. like an apple.
or butterflies. blunt sides of pins.
the polyester blanket soaked
from evening vinegar.
collected like dust.
(originally published in Cosmonauts Avenue – Spring 2015)
I.
all my words are fingerprints
& ankles in the sand, the Atlantic,
broken wind,
& I’m in bed, awake, sleeping,
blue light, wake me up, do not
disturb, I wait, I heave, I heave,
I breathe, I dream
of waking up, a clump of silver dress
entrenched in my palm
II.
whispers.
an engine hums softly,
lonely.
whirring. & the artificial black
stillness of fluorescent light
eyes that glint like shoeshine
activate the lives
of specks & lint
III.
there is no future:
just you & I, hands interlocked,
a knit pretzel woven lover
& apprentice, each knot a
finger-printed window
to fields which rise
like pancakes in heat &
left cold on the table, uneaten
(originally published in Hermes Poetry Journal, Issue Two, 12/1/14)