solitude (in e minor) (9/12/20)
lately the sun has stunk of january
hot salt, cold thighs
wondering what the pillow truly smells like
lately the eggs have curdled in the nests
the posters on the walls
do nothing but cover what’s between
oh cream white rectangle
i buy bright lights like they bring you something
i try on patterns like posters
plastered wall to wall
trying to hide the popcorn ceiling
lately everything is on tv at eleven
i plan matching socks for weeks in advance
i killed a hornet the other day
every day
trapping it in the window
scrawling its name in white
drowning it, hallowed
in candle wax resin
lately i repeat these things
like they mean something