I am so sorry I did not save you I just sat there I said nothing

I think I have put myself through
too much lately

I sip in the sweetness but still I am scared of the wideness of the world and the smallness of me

And I know you’ll hate this poem, you’ll say it’s too much gore

So I will be the keeper of your taxidermy memory if you will let me

The Lord is my Shepherd, I want to hide under the pews.

Adelaide, pliant as smoke, blown by the breeze, drinking the gifts of helpless jokesters

Start of winter’s white lament

A forge-bright sky cools to ash grey, as people seek shelter from pouring rain

Three NutriGrain Soft Baked Breakfast Bars sat impishly by my pencil sharpener, feigning death as they remind me I pilfered them