tacky, too small
towel
folded over
mirror,
powdered yet
damp,
caving sun starved
cheek,
tepid swan tears
in her sway,
no push to
speak,
curtains hang like
eyelids,
sorrows perched
on shoulder
bare,
chipped comb teeth
parting grey
hair.
shadow work
a fading letter
to myself,
another season
boxed up,
visions dust the
eyelids
a teardrop
blurs dried photo
of boarded
garden
room
last rose in back
flaunts her
fleshy
hue
eternally in
bloom.
she reminds me
i was birthed estranged
and hides letters
that would best explain
why i do not breathe
love’s name
without shame.
memoirs shed
to read backwards,
brainwaves down highways,
black marker mystery
played out by smudge-eyed agents
on slow dissolving screen.
confined to
old home staircase
missing railings
no apparent landing,
down then
up to
lost..
still
shuffling..
stifling..
teetering on the edge
of dream,
eyes fixated on
our feet–
rooted right where
we should be.
a tired punch through
frozen glass
to evade the
clasp of
time,
deep cleansing cuts
on hands,
in gushing life from
busted dam.
point not as
i fail,
no such beast treks
these woods
since autumn laid
its smell,
hear not as
i tell
like i’ve never
lived the
tale,
trapper without
map
back to safety net’s
missing mesh,
beast now roams
off grid,
unplug to watch
eyes dim
like stars
through drowsy slits.
Fragments
slept in training-
out the
back,
i hear too loudly
what’s not
said,
squealing to a
complete
stop
before the road
falls off,
chased lost cloud
back to my
corner,
nothing waits
like you.
do eyes parade
by you?
exposed
in shy costume,
making vintage
new.
broken pencil-
charcoal smudge,
loose leaf torn up-
worn off grudge.
hands in the garden 
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