Strangers barking in the ear
of anger and the second year that
only speaks to those who hold
their flowers
You are the one who cannot be
reminded who is lost at sea and
learned the truth is meant for
sanitation
The people we hold to the sky
who let us know the day we die have
left us for the promise we
abandon
The angels of the luncheon room
who sweep their life with broom and pan
lift their skirts and taste the life
worth living
Tomorrow sparkles on the tongue
that latches to the ladder rung and
swings across the clouds and lifts
your mattress
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