1380

sun scorch

clay skin

bent sunwalks

like trees

pine

and it cracks

and it’s black

just out

pouring

a vision of a lover

dancing on a lightbulb

just a statuette behind a curtain

saw you sweeping

on the corner

a broom in the mouth

wings in twine

nobody knows the language

anymore

someone polled

I asked

got nothing

but shrugs

if I had known

I would have reacted slow