Nearing the new

malleable and crisp
the breath in front of me ephemeral
never minding the forwardness of its mingling
with yours

the klaxon sounds politely
from the tips of hope-d emerald,
the grains of sand fall through your breast
into open sores.

rearwards came Hush, unsightly
and pressed further distance, shunning
what parts of us were best
we meet with our eyes on orion’s belt.

taciturn, taking time to talk,
behind the fan that’s kept us running
is lonesome query remains just this:
how are you, dearest, and how have you felt?

the northwest

Ms. P lay staring at her bedpost ends,
considering loves and injustice and
southerly things
“what time does the raven rise from his sleep?
where issues his kin when the night ends?”

a furrow develops
in a brow tipped with tedium
“why does my blood clot so fast?”

“where can i feel
like the girls in the movies?
where do bright lights sing my name?”

the warm yellow lights
of the bedside table lamp
washing her face in mustard hues

“when the clock strikes,
it isn’t at my behest
it is 11 p.m. everywhere”

a knock at the door
and its angles become obtuse
her father says “i’m sorry, kitten”
but it doesn’t matter any longer to her,
as cars pass by outside.