molar
You turn fuzzy
All flea like
Swarming
lichen
my growth is stunted
by seasons that collapse like lungs
choking on soggy air
cat caller
God, I cannot wait for the rain
I’m dull bored swarming in a layer of sweat
Mine mine theirs
Skin on skin tacked down
Nancy
Nancy bought kitchenware obsessively
little rows of silver
she’d polish until she could see right through
x-ray her own liver
gone fishing
It’s an inherently selfish thing to be sad. To sit in the bathtub all evening and to light up a cigarette and to willingly fade away. To run the water too hot just to burn from the outside in.
Sweet Dreams
Her room smells like new shoes
Or new jeans;
Fresh rubber fresh fabric. Fake-
Clean in a factory way:
Obituary
I hate Sundays
Gulp
there is nothing.
leaps and bounds of it:
skin on the line
washing day:
the bimonthly emptying of pockets-
warm swells of detergent-
Sweet steam room damp.
train
I only feel like I belong to the city when I’m on the train. An anonymous figure perfectly slotting into the puzzle crafted by thousands of other commuters.
noisy
I played the rain away:
i’ve never liked summer
When it is empty again
And the summer sun looms,