straight to the waist

we need you

the dead

to remind us

of our connection

to the living earth

*

the day deadens

into another

like a bad but continuous date

flirting for a night that lightens

underneath heavy covers and kissing toes

where among summer somebodies who hold

winter in their pants

despite remaining pantless

with flowers embroidered onto their dresses

so they do not wilt

i am reminded that i am alone

for even my left hand

awkwardly avoids

the right

*

death is easy

while life is the hardest thing

each day

where here we drink

tired and retiring to

watch the sun drip into black

realizing that time cannot be wasted

only we can

and perhaps more soberly

can’t be