Failed feathers

I had flowers today where

pollen fornicated my fingers,

but a butterfly came,

flashed its failed feathers,

and robbed the nectar.

*

Hold a poem against

me for I wish to

hold you against

a poem.

*

The city crawls across the earth

spreading people who spread more people

into the same city that coughs

and empties and opens buildings

like morning eyelids

that cannot see there are

fleshy, winged screams everywhere

that eat plastic and explode,

that are as functionless

alive as dead,

though at least as corpses

there is one less screech

and a lot more entertainment

where you can kick

and open

and paint the streets in red,

then the city crawls again, searching for more fun