Category: Poetry

a bundle of bones
and two eyes so blue
they drowned out the summer sky—

you would recoil
from every loud noise on
the nearby street,

The man they sent in my place was older,
weaker. He had a scar across his left
cheek and gray splotches in his hair.

(How many more? I cannot say,
for when my counting climbs past ten…

refracting,
reflecting,
translating mass
into shape
and colors
and faces,

but in the darkness…

tumbling from chapped lips like
broken acrobats;

the carpet is thick with their
skeletal remains…