2.17.2016

Exercise in Fragility

If grief has a flavor
it’s strawberry
conventional
seeds stuck in dental work
If despair commutes
it’s stuck on Route 9
forgetting the back way
Sadness sings all the songs
on Imperial Bedroom
and Zenyatta Mondatta
smells like your deodorant
anticipates meaty hands
circling its waist
constantly rubs a bruise
with its left thumb
unthinking
waits for rain