You trace the shape of my ribs
the flesh of my detox
rub honey into my scars
My soul is ready
to slip under
~ ~ ~
White Burst
Nineteen winters burn willow and snow
Sheaves of wheat lean against plaster walls
Apples and shadows blend with wormwood
A messenger, brushed with feathered chalk
gave birth to all that followed
rescued me from leather shell
laid seeds in fallowness –
westward, seek the coast
escape
~ ~ ~
I'd stick myself
in the spotlight
shout out my words
make you notice me
but this noose
chokes
It's a public hanging
and if you haven't come along to heckle
then I don't know what you're doing here