Lucia beat Jim to the door
The sink turns on
With a rusted wail
From within a steel throat
She knocks, mouths off
Out in the kitchen
Wood slaps wood
Food fills a bowl
While Emerald pours
Cheerios,
feeling hungry.

Hungry on a bed on a moonlit night
A touch too soon before June for coyotes
Let them wail
Savor the silence of stars in a room
hiding from violence. Alfalfa grows
in rows beneath their own shade.
Let them speak.
Their are voices are drawn into dry wind.
Dissipated in desert before I catch them.
What's the word?
Have you heard?
Walking sluggishly through straw at mid-day.
Where's the door?
So little pay.

A tomb is a vacuum. Should I choose to die.
Chain-smoking my lungs out would suffice.
Should I choose between ears or eyes
I'd be blind and in tune with what you say.