May, June

I had hadenough. As flowersdry upsidedown and

keep the housefrom looking too,too dead, I wentto decoratemy bed withmyself. The knot

inside my neckblooms intoterror onlywhen I've lostwhat I wanted

to spit out ofhow unfaircollectingin my gums, rising

wet undermy tongue Don'tsay that, I didn'tsay. Outside spring

came, and menfilling our movingshadows witha slow walkto churn

what might elsespoil in the new,the experimentalheat