Is it like Saturn's rings
to yawn and sag?
Or to brighten
and bid the orb goodbye?

This feathery thing is dusty.
Speckled with painted faith
that bids its hinges to stay.

This room deafens
the ******'s orange blades.
These walls hinder
the white mantle rose.

Shreds of glass preserved
for a moment that is dead
lean against the moon
and wonder how they live.

Dried fruit kiss her feet,
air passes like a violin
and mirrors fragment this moment
like a shotgun lullaby.

Hopeless,
entangled and lonely
Soiled in thought.
Green shrubbery in
knots of friendship
and senseless touch.

Peonies by the dozen,
resting on the floor,
with drawn malice
and a simpleton heart.
In puddles of love
and a rainfall of glass
they evaporate in pointless,
panicked gasps.

Hopelessly.
Entangled and lonely.
Twirling in the frost
of stormed air,
and withered wrecks,
and sugar glass.

Peonies by the dozen
dying on the floor-