it takes half a person to tango

August 1 2024

Not quite that Grief is immutable
or the windmill trouble turns.

Tracing blunt needles is
my new twenty four seven.

Reciprocity and I untied the knot
and it was violent, violent.

Worms, the human benchmark,
walking their miserable turn.

Spots etched onto your cornea.
Make me the wretched sin-eater.

That’s the new stamp and her
shift at the post office.