A creeper on the glass mirror would love to try and find

A haven for his stench to sink and be welcomed

Wind’s rhythm and gold’s beats are changing

Your red and black arch is tears of happiness for

The taken joker with the mocking-night smile

It’s a warning for the earth worms below to curl in mush

And stretch out to envelop the broken down rock grit

All while they sleep.



Sigh and grace the side of my cheek with the back

Of your hand. Will you slap my one day? No, never—

What could a little stink bug do to harm me?

One cannot separate their treasures easily—

Or perhaps rubies did not fit with the cool black night stone,

But then I remembered that the black widow eats her mate

And I stumbled on foot for a long time before I knew you.

Enough said.



It was warm that day—very fresh and brightly lit

My wrists swung docilely, facing outward—and your fingers

Laced with my hand—silent clamps and scalpels and ropes

To turn—at just the right moment. Pushing aside my answer.

And forcing me downward as if a swarm, making me a millstone

Sinker to the restless night from which I have not woken entirely.

Half developed larvae.



It’s funny walking by a window—in the fall, or perhaps the summer

My, my there are a lot of you in haggard clumps

Creating speckled shadows that dot my inner room.

Silly, the way you’ve bit my ear, and now all I hear is tainted.

I’ll steadily walk in grey and violet. No longer a ruby.

Child, you’ve got a long way to fly—a long time to mate.

Avoid those boxelders.



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