THE DELIGHT I FELT WALKING MELTING STREETS
summer sun searing my shoulder blades
pitch
kissing the soles of my shoes
jumping in petroleum puddles
popping tar bubbles
on my way home from school
blue bottles of glass on white window panes
chamomile
growing wild in the driveway weeds
a curl of smoke from a burning cigarette
orbiting the steering column
the flutter
of a luminescent green eyelid
a smile from the very first girl i loved
translucent
honeycomb bleeding
sweetness through your teeth
the wet flower heart of an artichoke
the low
warm
glow
shining onto a lover’s face
as the blanket you’re sharing begins to burn
the safety and truth of a planetarium
so simple to leave the earth far behind
and
the way the tapestry on the ceiling fluttered
in the candlelight when i was a child
MY HANDS SMELL LIKE INCENSE BUT IN MY EARS ARE TIDES, pulsing. tides, in and out, swelling and roaring, sheets of blood washing over the top step; cascading earthward, splattering, smacking and washing away a million tiny instances of dust, aged polyurethane, and sainthood.