The bars are white soapy mouth
The sky is an unforgettable moment.
I take out my paper and mention my gratitude list-
The sun kisses my toes by the daytime
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,
like – a sniff of a mountain or vapourizing lakes.
I must return to my kitchen now-
peel potatoes and count the peanuts
floral saturn rings of now and before.
I must return now, quickly.