where shall I send my poems?**
to my eyelashes,
for they beat irregularly
unconcealed and unconscious
like my poems
to my fingertips,
where they are released fluidly
they grasp, strained and staining, tapping breaths
like my poems
to my smile,
fleeting and happy weeping fortuitously
a lifetime of a whisper, glimpsed and gone
like my poems
to my brain,
where they are symmetrically born only to die ceremonially
a fireworks duration evaporating into a rich velvet
like my poems
like my poems,
none will survive me,
blemishes, pockmarks, beauty marks, residues,
in a flash bang born, in a flash bang consumed
3:08am dec. 9 2019
