6/8/16

the teeth
you sharpened
can break skin

tender finger
held out for a kiss

6/7/16

drinking

tuesday's
bourbon

with

houseplants

6/6/16

the rain
drew
a curtain

the valley
gray silk

6/5/16

her soul spilling
a trail of honey
through a room
rubbed dry
with cardamom

6/3/16

i let him push his cars
over the humped backs
of gravestones,
hope the tolerant ghosts
of mothers are smiling

6/2/16

lightning glints in dark
like a church-hung lantern

arriving storms shoot their
black cannons and gallop
down the mountain

6/1/16

in the pink tub

i pour water through 

his babyfine hair

he closes his eyes and smiles,

birthday in three days