my convictions are a limp wrist wrestling ice cubes from the tray
the air like licking metal
me i am leaking
and it sucksunsure about things
like oysters for instance
i’ve surely eaten hundreds
and still don’t know
i need it to be bright out
though i have no intention
of ever getting up
i walk around the house
tying bows on everything
big bows on the lamp bases
tiny bows on the leaves
i wedge miniscule oranges between us
until you notice,
if we make juice
we go to hell.we are
two pieces of glass stuck inside red jell-o
that your mom hands you after dinner.
she wipes jell-o on her white apron.
so anyway, we’re the glass in the jell-o
we can never ever touch and
you are a bigger shard than i am.
i am a tiny pearl stuck inside a child’s shoe except he thinks i am a rock
because that’s what they taught him in school: that rocks live in shoes
and not pearls.
something holding something else will always win
a sad attempt at the splitsucking hard on my straw
what a sweet farce
like an old horse with braids
or a nearly-thawed pot pie.
the yolk of the matter is:
she stuck to my mind like a star.