timechocking

I remove a tender hand from my throat

my own

retrim the hedges 

search within overcrowded pockets

careless fingers

prodding

poking ah

your  perennial private landscape

there

gracing old tissues  

masks

so we invert underbelly

smothering fact and fiction

detonating ourselves (like the news says)

annihilating assumption

and the greedy self savor

of furnished pain

Put down the heavy thing

You needn’t always bring it everywhere! 

Emoji-faced lie

Here is 

where I pick

at the seam and skin

a raw rationale  

for new growth

and we are frenzied

but delicate

and you lust

and I cook eggs

and whatever’s else is

first raindrops, never touching

the scent of whispers

sweet bottled nectarines, pluming

like 

your eyes as embers like

my eyes as night

full of beck and coffee