experience being trapped in an architecture of nothing

the narcissistic narrator may have come after the
beginning to walk a linear maze that i can desire
to prepare a promise to complete what may unfold
after the plan, walking until i find out what is that
happening outside me, and i can picture myself as

on the bus a man curls his fingers
into the soft, plush fur of a stuffed animal
dirty nails stark contrast

i named him tag
tag-along

he smiles with only a handful
of yellow teeth, the most
genuine smile i've ever seen

are hedgehogs indigenous
to this area?

no they would be
very, very
out of place

uno, dos, tre

it's two of three now
your motives are still unclear
and i'd like to know

----------------

tell me, billie joe
what was in your head other
than those prescriptions?

----------------

'cause disappointment
was the last thing i ever
wanted from you, dear

hand sanitizer, antibacterial, 99.2% of germs killed

There are some places I have been:
a Laundromat at midnight on a Sunday,
the spin cycles turning precise,
cleaner than the hands of a clock.

That was the first time I knew I would
grow old.

I die more and cleaner every day. My
husband says, You worry too much. I wash
my hands in the sink and say, There’s no
such thing as worrying too much.

I have been to a children’s soccer game when it

rained. All the jerseyed children stopped kicking
soft-skulled balls to tilt their heads back, yawn their

mouths wide, eyes shut and baby-bird throats

opening to catch the water.

I was too afraid of lightning to move.

The truth is

tally lines grow on my face, not wrinkles.
Relatives die. My husband leaves the house

each morning. I say, Drive safe. He says,
Yeah, yeah. I wash my hands in the sink. There’s

no such thing as worrying too much.

the walks alone
the ones I take down main street the
wet leaves all
different colors
dead hooker pond
smelling like shit
no running water and the
biker chick diner
Worcester baby you gotta hold on me
killed me
and brought me back to life

trombone men and no-toothed women
dumpster diving and African hair braiding
running through puddles that men created with their spit telling
me I was their property I am
an intruder in your streets but you
are now mine to be had
when mountains are replaced by humanity's rot
that is when
something can truly be owned look up at
what your people have done

limerick

demon devil darkness slope
big satan's no misanthrope
give him yr soul and plastic
don't get ecclesiastic
we got love, it ain't called hope.

For my laptop, "Snowflake," 2007-2012

Your face now flecked
by nameless precipitates
Eyelashes fallen, unwished upon,
between your keys

Old war elephant! Traveler!
Yellowed ivory and joints
creaking like timber --
how loyalty outlasts usefulness

Dionaea is a good way to

describe a relationship

Venus with her mouth open wide

beckoning us to climb inside

little butterfly lashes

on either side of us