I have to hold you by your edges
    careful not to smear your makeup,
    not to muss your hair, ruin lipstick.
    You are my porcelain china doll.
    I'm your curator. Look but don't touch.
    I'll keep you perfect forever.

In the aftermath I thought
  how small the sound was.
  I expected a bigger noise.
  I thought it was snowing.
  It was just ash, a feeble
  reminder of what was,
  floating on nuclear winds.
  The only sound was silence.

It belongs to those I love.
I'd end it sometimes but I
would never hurt them.
Loss might drive them
to despair and dominoes
would fall on and on.

Reggie

    He's dying in his bed above his bar.
    The jukebox plays soundtracks
    of life and people live out loud
    drinking and laughing in fierce
    lives below. Life on fire!
    He dies smiling above it all.

I pray on my knees every night
to my plastic Jesus bleeding on
his made in China plastic cross.
My world is ***** and pillaged.
I still believe church and state will
jail the guilty and save us fools.

I've outlived everyone of you
******* who wanted to ****
on my grave. I'm not pretty.
I'm a lump of clay but still.

I drop my frozen tears into
my cup of wine for comfort.
I pray for your soul and visit
you often at your grave to
share gossip and heal my
heart just one more time.