I'm speaking in
leaves and with dirt against
trying to sleep
repeating the hot hum of heartache
& stopping to breathe
I have been
inside & under
this horrible robe /
its ropes tied too close &
I'm starting to choke /
breaking-down wine & the whys to find
fumbling's curse
repetitive lure-slurring prose
in my own faulted purse
this is a
tree and then paper
a bird and now blood
& all of the bones you've swept up
love,
stick out of the rug