closing in on
being true
in light of relapse,
taking up less space
while face to face-
no blame,
curtains parted.-
still no rain.
rhyme
cloak city blows like
chewing smoke
breath etches fad
past into
glass
finish scraped
from eyes
devised to
hide
graffiti framing
flowers.
the cool sweat of
silence,
a cruel drowsy
pause
for bite like dark coffee
and deep people
reflecting
loss,
fevers bubble under
fangs of
frost.
glitter splattered on
bald beach,
caught flexing like
car salesman’s
teeth,
i can’t reach can in
unlit fridge,
ever kiss
frostbitten lips?
swoll pupils
bob
like tealights on
pound of
clouds,
grey lightning
lips
submerged
in all words turn flood
heart sculpted of wax
and blood
pools like sand in
veins dried
shut.
intimately,
bodies harmonize
with summer mist
spattered on fogged glass
in crystal streaks
pearl beads
weep
from swollen folds
upon sheets dirtied rose
glows each
breath,
stretched cotton thread
swabs skin
raw
of sin made
song-
in reckless waves,
here and
gone.
rusty owl
bleeds into lowest branch
of sky..
ends where eyes
melt slow,
then swell to life with breath
rekindling flame
and flesh..
ash dissolves like
desert snow
into good morning’s
stubborn glow.
just a little thank you
or no
leaning over
looking onward ghostly
tempt me into
fading more to ignore
groans from gut
of fridge
box fibers cave at
acrid sight
of tomb like room
this sickly
bright.
peeling tape from corners,
oh so muggy mists rose morning
over lens of glasses, crooked
postures painting
hides the
rot
and butter sweat’s spread thick with
blade dragged glistening
from dirt water
daily dangers swamped in sink
badly needs draining
but why bother.
welcome a whisper-
the rustle,
a fistful of feathers
released
to the ether
in ballet
of the scattered.
hands in the garden 
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