she has two pupils set within one eye
the product of inbreeding I’m convinced
her cooking is earnest and italian
set in reject pots from an outlet sale.
hawks of sweat clutch her arm as she cleans house
she’s merry as a bell with her talk shows.
reading ingredients off chocolate bars
she laboriously eats the morsels.
if time were a rose, its petals have dried
and scents our bathroom, behind the toilet.
claws of first snow withdraw to pads of grass
long our hearts tumble in this laundromat
eventide kisses of tonic and rye~
subtle jazz slow symbol whisk till we die.