Once upon a time
I carried a corkscrew in my teeth
and tiny feathers leaked out
every time I whispered.
I wonder where the time goes
when you’re not cleaning out the shower drain;
all my hair collects in my pocketbook.
The barista asks for change
and all I can produce is pen caps
and an expired ****** I found in your glove box.
An ocean stands on two feet before me,
all this leather in my hands,
but I’m pierced by the clockhands
I saw in the lines around your mouth.
Tiny feathers leaking out.