 |
Counterfeit joy
dazzles and distracts,
a conduit for my nervous energy,
concerned, but oddly confident
that the magenta
underneath my fingernail..
|
 |
Memories disengage, pixilate.
I disconnect.
Wrapped in a sarcenet robe,
my hand held out before me.
Fingers docked one by one
with a blade.
..
|
 |
The mustard sticks,
staunch in its resolve
to remain so.
My tongue wags,
begs an appeal,
but the yellow liquid
seeps from the mash
cre..
|
 |
Born in Warren,
a suburban Hell.
His first memories
were of Mother filled with furor
arranging and rearranging
his siblings against the w..
|
 |
In a diluvium of gasoline and mud,
appendages tumble over me.
Arms, legs, and even one head
touch me, skin on skin.
Greasy, slippery, firm and w..
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3
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