Countless Vertebrae

The skeleton poster
over the bed
with a detached spine
gives us better posture
to examine the room:
how the avocado leaves
curl inward A-sexually,
how the childsize lamp
dazzles dust in the cracks,
how you mock sleep
with your body
rounded in the shape
of a perfect S.

The Coping Spoon

We locked the drawer last November
when drifts of fresh snow froze into grudges,
falling down chimneys next door,
and turning to mud then loveseats
in someone else’s front room.

Lettering clings to the carpet.
I've brushed my hair a thousand times
and still can't get used to sugar-free jello.

Even if we confess everything in the stall
of an empty parking lot,
cars will continue to park there.

Wax Meat

Naturally
we must learn
to divide our time
between believing
and leading
the dinner party.

In Lieu of Thumbs That Will Not Bend

Pound harder
on the deaf door,
I am only pretending
not to hear you,
how in the glass room
the untouched rosehead
whistles
under its breath.