Title-less

--

my limbless room

where colt legs &

painted fingernails

don’t count

sitting with arms

legs feet hands

missing

lastly, eyeballs rolling

in soggy sockets

eyelashes batting

Mozart tunes to the walls.

--

me and my thread

stitch each other into

knot after knot

not knowing when

to stop

oh, thread gods,

won’t you grant

us two needles?

one for the undoing,

another for old

time’s sake...

--

eons ago

i wrote you letters

from a to z and

back 3 thousand times

a simple punctuation

would have done nicely,

my dear

but you were

too wide-eyed & breathless

at victoria’s secret ads

to pay me

any mind.

--