Saturday, December 14, 2019

My Copy of the U.S. Constitution



Something calls oblivion

Where milk glass is heading

It won’t return

like icicles every year

White cherubs for stems

You notice people buy it

not because they want it

but to preserve it

Fruit that aspires to be alabaster

What words give

What words take away

Not beauty but what it’s cut out of

So jaggedy

as you out of me

You note more circles every year

Less rectangles

It must be a national diet of shapes

Men lose their beards and women find them

Food can be a sexual proxy adventure

The bears in the backyard

Seem more like your dead parents

every year

You lock the door earlier

You start to swoon into the curtains

And watch the bears that way

No comments:

Post a Comment