falling couples
salted lips stick together
sluiced holes in icy blues
pellucid pales cradle
bitter, bitter babies

he took a shot of amber
he took a shot of gold
likeness of
likeness of
another viselike love
he took a shot of amber
he took a shot of gold

festered in limbo
& unknown boundaries
of sharing
collapsed on self
collapsed onto
peach tiled floors
inlaid mold mocking
me

I felt my lashes fall
& waited for my laundry
concrete painted in old
colored blues
a good cold way
to lie questioning
a delicate condition

odes to Philomela:
futiled I
killing ‘my’
for the sake of,
for the sake
of
okay

unsweet
unsweet rock-a-byes
cast-iron cranes coated in honey
rule orchard kingdoms
canopies emerald-cut
with forecasts
with forecasts
of Category 5 intensity

mallet to meat
with minnows of intramuscular fat
marbling and muttering
those, those sweethearts
ourselves and a Firstborn
we find ourselves
ourselves
slumbering in our Frostbitten Cathedral