so
endearing, those gracious thighs, makes for torture.
I
would dream—of pictures, seen falling, aside a pit; clawing frantically, seized
by a net, golden-blue eyes, failures inside, famous for a ladder.
a
hairless sky, pure opposition, so close to exhaling—breathing incense, trekking
faster, the temple shall fall.
the
smell of chitlins, the feel of emptiness, striving in community—those welts, so
wrangled, upon wicked winds.
unleavened
cornbread, fermented berries, a tub of water; dipped, confessing a new life,
the mouth filled with deliverance.
aiming
for one pain, sipping my poison, mourning hickory.
spaceless,
remorseful, one might suggest—it took too long.
judging
is celebrated, some forget islands, ostracism, fretting interior; boldened
swelling, falling acorns, knocking on morals.
cashews
with papaya, vodka with eggnog, souls with regrets.
