tonight the hottub sits in a corner
collecting ideas until
waters of the sun actually sink and sharks
of the moon surround it and
bite, till pink daffodils emerge from the throat
of a decaying stuffed baby
toy rabbit, lucky
charm for the adults who cast aside their grown up
clothes and snug beneath ladders, what

of helmet do you have on, as it, the
turn of a key
ignites the car into gesture, a signal
of providing a small flower to
a street passerby, the show
of the flame in the assistant’s eye
must continually unknot what
goes on

or the shut down will require too much
software “replace battery,” updates
hang from the ceiling webbing there unconscious
silk-threads into the communicative
dilations of the
colored tapestry innocently revealing itself

from within


3 thoughts on “Poverty

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