September 17, 2018

babes rest in the arms
of nights’ forgotten silence
liquid numbs lips

September 15, 2018

I scrub stained dishes

at the top of Megiddo

blood becomes the base

to love is
distance between fingers
it is July now

fingers trace the dust
almost wiped clean with prayer
panic attacks

fold into silence
aroused rush hour breaks
the white dawn

asphalt doesn’t breathe
objective permanence
a wildflower wilts

lit by the moon
her perfume, a stranger
choking on smoke