her head is thrown back in laughter
and the moment stops

i have to look at her,
at the scene,
because we are placed in just such a way
that it could be painted
in strokes that destroy the secret

not of the words,
but the showing of our teeth

i have to look at her,
at the scene,
from the corner of the room in order
to see it
hovering between us

her laughter and mine meeting in the air
to blend, to dissolve
a new color, a secret

daisies colored girls reflecting the sun,
soft roses ensorcelling me
with shining silvery ribbons,
taking as a prisoner my bleeding
enamoured heart.
    
                                - mina

staid,
so sober
tossing pages
closed on clover
sank for a sennight

cream
and green
and white
and red
like spring cloudburst on her head
from stride
to sulk
to sleep
to cry
clutch, cradle and cast the die

******,
sleeping, sneaking sot
windswept, waifish
closed on clover kept to rot
fold for a fortnight

fix a thousand paper cranes
taking pains until it wanes

cream,
and green
and pallor,
plum
forswears all her working numbs
from sink
to sink
to cough
and cry
contemplates with vacant eyes
the stars above, where they reside
and when they dawn, their bright visage
where could the glimmer be

she runs a blade
along the side of truth
tearing seams to separate
the situation from semantics

tossing context
so I am nothing more
than a consequence
of bad behaviour,
an example of pain’s twisted path

reduced from a person
to a speed bump,
slowing her life plan

a hangnail on the hand
that feeds