I feel it in my non-opposable
thumb – the left hand that can’t hold
Chekov’s gun.
I’ve grown none the wiser than
your lingering eyes on my
shoulders – James Dean and Jack
Simmons postmortem
last kiss.
Last night was a salmon’s tragicomic
first breakfast.
Baby who’s never seen me with a solo cup.
Risking the organism to throw my head back
and laugh.
I let the hennin fall onto the arcade carpet while
holding court in a karaoke bar.
Let’s go out and tell everyone about
Ezekiel seeing the wheels.
Throw that halo into the mountains.
Watch it come back.
