now strip all the streams of her
paint her face from the walls
delete the digital shards
of the omission professed, inept

the moaning tease of love
stops
and now it begins
the hoarding of art
the roaring wells of smoke

designated paintings
gungey pink words
a gun fires deep in the woods
and out limps a lover’s touch

strip all the streams of her
board every wandering tunnel
delete the digital shards
of our shattered growing up