Pink supernovas
call monarchs to crawl;
poison milk drops from
broken green breast.
Fields flicker with rivers
of afternoon latex.
O fluent wound,
this is a poor man's Lethe.
There are better ways
to forget what happened
than the annihilating
milkweed cripples.

trapped beneath a fitted rubber sheet
a lump in the mattress
suffocating on
rancid latex sweat
and yesterday's dried fluids

who were they
the nameless in the dark
this one smelled of popcorn
that on howled in delight

a collage of senseless noise
scented by cats and Ajax
leftovers always go bad

Chuck-will's-widow
in the tree by the window
it must be after midnight

though noon looks the same
in this cage that gives just enough
to torture with possibilities
of breaking free

freedom is overrated
roses stain glass
with the bloodletting
of thorny mishaps

blurred by smeared wounds
ain't life grand
when love ceases to be a goal

how can one find what is
utterly indefinable
if it cannot be decisively named
it cannot be concretely attained

then again, love's fluidity
is its charm
no hard edges
ebbing and flowing
elusive and longing

**** me latex blind
unseen and used
by those who never did mind
a lumpy mattress