The bars are white soapy mouth
The sky is an unforgettable moment.
I take out my paper and mention my gratitude list-
I mention
breath
onion
Ketchup
broccoli
Sylvia
rosemary
Pauses
The sun kisses my toes by the daytime
slushing,
suitcases and winter games.
I write too many sad poems, I know.
I write too many absent spirited lives.
Loneliness spews black paint through my crevices.
I bloom too.
I bloom at darker,
soft places
like – a sniff of a mountain or vapourizing lakes.
I must return to my kitchen now-
peel potatoes and count the peanuts
Pink sky-
floral saturn rings of now and before.
I must return now, quickly.
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