9h27
bent as paraffin my espresso
pot melted into oak countertops his
fishnet stockings Christmas lights still scattered purple
despite bonsai branches stretching green feathery guts toward
light starry nibs (we saw them): February bulbs constellation laughter
nerve-bent at crimson midriff of curtains on sale
tousled over whitewashed sill softly stirring
scarred nutmeg mouth foaming vacant eye two-for-one
sheets of bent glass plum wine about to tip
about to spill on the antique hardwood floor stained
black like this pretty house we live in
like these linen piles they built up in minutes
bent Barbie-doll roof leaking with bits of damp sky
bone white vibrations splintered words
down bright fresh stucco pink Arlesque walls
a blue stone pot your mother gave us
almond yellow leaves hands striking
almost half past nine in the evening
the smell of sugary fingers