The peonies are popping! A fist that is also a kettle that is also
A pact petals made with whatever cabal of bees decides to stick
Around. Let’s all us shake on it. Ah, these lungs of mine the perfect
Emergency orange of extension cord coil. All my breathing is
Indoor/outdoor. Just be yourself, so I open a tab & order a
Whiskey, non-artisanal rocks. My sweat equity pays for itself.
Shoot, it only took half a second for it to get unpaid–electric-bill
Quiet up in here. The longing’s prix fixe. Naturally, the peonies bang
Their way into the room, demand a table by the window. The city’s
Swans give away the weather. Step out of the pond & into
The mix, swans! Make tracks like hatched forkprints on
Uncooked dough. Half a life is achieving a gorgeous crisp
Tear of a sugar packet’s corner. Half a life is reaching
Casually for a dog who—sad to say—’s been gone for months.