Four Way Stops

dirty little footprints soil their path.

casual narrators bite their tongues.

sold again to the numbers between the text. 

time yawns. a cordial surrender.

change lurches forward. swarmed by memory's hornets. 

touch stutters. fallen apples tug at the curtain. a very particular grief. 

frail bones in heavy skins. wear their consent in borrowed pockets and absent buttons.

thoughtlessly betrayed by the furious economy of love. 

the distance presses its weight into our shame. 

a long series of broken paths. poisoned by their destination.

discarded masks with our faces sewn inside them. 

missing eyes and severed lips in their rocking chairs.

puliing on all the wrong zippers.