my vegas showed through
the stains in the carpet
aunty cass took the vacuum
rum ran through her vessels
veins that clotted with welch’s

there is no future
only time in which we
busy ourselves
and try to shape well
we become a decent
person

i can see through
the smile you’ve hung from
carpet bags on the window
peering through the green glass
i can see a bleeder but not a lover

your blood tastes like
welch’s