Perched on the exam
table like a rib roast on
white butcher paper.
In the doctor’s office
2
Perched on the exam
table like a rib roast on
white butcher paper.
Perched on the exam
table like a rib roast on
white butcher paper.
A mouse burrowing
deep, it peers out but can’t be
caught with eyes open.
Conversational
buzz a backdrop to clinking
spoons stirring white clouds.
Subterranean
hum of spinning drums cleansing
my dirty stained life.
Now she has time to
blow dry her hair while I rub
away sleep, then drive.
Snowpack seems solid
but underneath, droplets sing
of melting caverns.
Bandana over
his sweet smile, ninja to his
anime girlfriend.
When Robert Frost wrote
“Nothing gold can stay,” he could
have described child stars.
Like laser pointers
they blind in red green blue as
they save the planet
My door open, but
the rooms are empty, thoughts like
forgotten relics.