mumber 2

one flower

MAY

There is a broad forgotten flower
in the ruins of our days, rising
immaculate from the frozen earth,
its purple heart waiting for a woman’s
name: Rose, Iris, Veronica,
Daphne.

Lo

Lo, the color of my mustache,
chestnut-shell with flecks of gold-leaf,
signaling to the world I take myself too
everythingly. Lo,

Ma

I’ve been keeping the quarter-full can of caffeine-free diet cola
Ma left in my refrigerator four weeks ago,
visiting from the chicken farm

scrable tiles

Mo

In a mo, you will be transported
to a civic amphitheater bedraped in rainbow flags
where a thirteen-year-old chanteuse will sing cumbia

spiral staircase

Love in the Time of Vertigo

Without help now
I can maneuver myself

upright, then supine to correct
the wind spinning my brain

from myself. My face angled
and pillow propping my shoulders,