The day is your enemy,
a siege of them your downfall.
I watch the battle take place
from a careful distance
with the sun ignorant on our
field and dancing upon your blood.
Conflict is a transfixing thing.

plum night
plum veil
plum skin taut under teeth,
snap-
flesh then nourishment,
consumed with red precision
besides the night inked sea.
Relinquishing the philosophies
and the heavy, coexisted before
in flaw, misguided and resistant,
now surely
melodic intertwined anatomies
crafting the mid-morning mosaic.

This manifest with
shifting shades:
festive touch
and horrific liberation;
indirect and permissible
eye.
unnerving
undeviating
unconditional
unraveling
p­lum.

but our blood fed the root
until it fat in the dirt
and alien. Dirt under
our nails eating until
fat in confusion and alien
to one another.
Boiling minds and candied
tongues silent on anxious ears,
canceling out all rationale
as the stiffened
men congregate under the
streetlights.