Cigs

we smoke
our paper
lungs

in the storm
then run
from your mom

to seek
an awning
to shield

the holes
in our chests

flames
tempered
by rain

clouds
scream
from our mouths

billowed gray
how it floats
above like

to warn us
forests need not
consume flame

 

(originally published in Hedge Apple, Spring 2019)

In the Future I Will Drink More Coffee

in the future i’d be watching you smoke
cigarettes
waving your smoke away
with cleaver hands

breakfast would come
we’d slice cucumbers in the wet-
snake leather kitchen
rectangular blade neatly fit
sink-soaked
the yolk in the sandwich a little drippy
warm & familiar

the electric stampede of spiders’ feet

never did the future weave
faint spiderweb strands

 

(originally published in Sobotka Literary Magazine – Issue #3)