settle, then, in serpentine
words once heard when
mixing roses and turpentine -
tales spun again in oils
flung on canvas sheets
always stretched too tight.
tonight a frail frame
might break
before colors make pictures.
It's only cheap pine
that holds it all together,
old bones with thin skin
you'd see through were
it not for the layers of
pigmented emulsions of
emotions trying to hide
the white, wordless,
grinning death waiting
underneath

The ******* took the beauty, and it wasn't
because he's handsomer, wealthier, or more caffeinated--
as you supposed, Christopher.

It was timing.

She was lonely.
He was there.

Chris, you were typing an email.

you know more
than just skin
sliced it apart
gotten under
dug close to the bone
so please
get gone

Peaches

We used to pick them fresh,
Right off the branch,
From the tree in the front yard
And place them in a basket
To take inside and taste and devour.
You’d wash them for me,
Me too tiny to reach the sink,
Then take the knife
And carve, swiftly,
Slicing off a smiling slice
For me to eat.
Now your twirled fingers
And paper skin can carve
Only lopsided smiles,
Gnarled and unfamiliar.
Let me take the knife
And dig into peaches
For you to enjoy.

Your voice has settled
On the taut film
Of my ear drum,
Like an echo
It howls,
But I've hummed it
Into a soft whisper.

nothing to say kind-
ness full of getting better and
hidden out among going nowhere for
lack of a better desert to waste early pills in

feeling requisite and searing updraft setting
weaker weaker dear quiet desert dear
freedom downed glass of freedom

fitting room water room dear
don't wait for anyone to go

away early desert
better pills full
of getting quiet