who'd have the salt to
pour over a wound,
cleansing the edges
and the in between but,
I am thinking tears would
have been more gentle
and still clean these wounds,

but there is that hover,
of a possessive lover,
standing over the para-
lyzed form, docile and with
a mixed bag of contorted
postures, and your phone/
camera takes pictures
and videos just like a drone

from above,

it hovers,
in my worst dreams,
we are lovers and i scream,
not in passion or ******,
but you began twisting
and plucking all
your perfectly placed tacks,

I guess, at this juncture,
that book on acupuncture
was worth the weight,
in flesh,
and still you hover as
I stream consciousness
on my mattress that feels
like a dry rocky creek bed,
and over my four poster bed
a black crow hovers
and the beak resembles
your nose, so please as
I sleep let me wake with
my ugly toes, and my covers
intact and no lover hovering in my
room, and no betrothal to Groom.