hands of different people forming clasps. it’s the work of a poet to notice everything, but then we start pointing fingers and making accusations.

romance is something that happens when i talk to someone over
and over. silver on silver on mud brown.

you grow, i gurgle. we’re gonna get you a nice, proper tie.
if i wanted to die, i’d climb on it if it were sure to kill me.

it isn’t. remembering used to be humiliating.
that i was there at all.

my way with words glints red herring.
the shark is the nothing behind my skull.

do you have a huge pocket for this unpriced baby lamb?
i hand it to you to drop in. kentucky is feeding frenzy.

i have no venom, no camouflage. i don’t know if i taste good.
i am medium size. i am missing a couple fins.

cook me
on your dashboard. i will be
somewhere else.