Over Poetry

wood ring index of the fine notes knotting under skin book for cover as hail comes

in light, hammer, in dark, fell; a curse upon the first head to strike sulphur

better than not slips through in always sufficient to slow traffic over chest bump

sludge builds a home at 9 am in the neat civil plan falling to earth

troil and touble, slound and fairly blurb on, mix light with sceptic, soothe wounds salve minor notetakers

drop an A into the gut, swelling acid in the bowl lifts a warm word onto the shoulder

seasonal crude flows over the credit we all take

the thing in the room guaranteed, shaping us separate and known

skin flake off tongue looking for wintery steel to merry

birth is on, confidence beaming from a playground puddle to the soil of the last sheet