There’s a pattern in the mold beneath the sunset paint,
The cracks above fold like rivers into a dark sea
Rank with rotting fishy skins.
This water boils the dinner plates
Clean again
After a meal of swamp sauce and
Reeds steamed with the heavy green air
For our dinner on the marsh banks,
Not for the fair or faint of heart.
his hand was as cold
as the shining doorknob
throbbing gold and locked
in her memory
keys and cords
kept choking
the copper pipes
in her old home
so barefoot she walked
the stone path
to the doorbell
rusted raspy
corroded happiness
dusted her fingertips
and attic air caked her lips
as she reached
for his hand
Our future is colored
Wildflower acoustic,
Fragrantly free.
Drifting seeds and sounds
Blend blue with the sky
Until clouds ripple
Like ocean waves
And the surf sparkles
Between constellations.
you placed my fingers in
the spaces between
the spider’s threads
and waited for sunset
or something I said
to warm your eyes
until blinded and bound
we could sit
softly together
jacsprat 