a petal wafts through the fields;
as though a cradle for the morning dew
forged by winter’s labour.

the flower remains anonymous.

come every morning,
i open my eyes slowly,
like i was trained to.

a quote of wisdom
makes it to school bulletin;
janitor reads it.

she was a good wife:
beautiful, honest, kind, soft -
just like her silence.

a bed of roses;
ruffled polyester, scorned:
unlucky petals.

i fake a smile at dinner;
try to recreate it in the mirror
when alone -
checking to see if they
could’ve seen through it.

mud in rainwater
bubbles with irreverence;
a dog steps on it.

a restless jitter;
skin-deep promises, unkept:
no nails left to bite.

mind commits a crime:
renders the body unsafe;
the soul bears witness.

split it anyway -
countenance of grief leaves back
a scar, forever.

jolly coke cans racked;
shoppers go quietly by -
all bubbly inside.

i snort the pillow;
lick shampoo off her hair strands;
she’s on to witchcraft.

a fistful of wishes
is all i have:
if i let go, i’m afraid
they’ll wither away,
like dandelion petals
on the back of a rescue dog;
if i hold on too long,
I’m afraid -
they’ll crumble -
like my illusions of being.

the fist gets tighter;
and i’m still waiting -
for the punchline.