To maintain these depths of misery
takes work given my buoyant disposition;
for every sill of my flesh

Suddenly I’m ready to eat the world,
Starting with the food on my plate.
The waiter asks if everything’s all right.

The dwarf maple caught my attention
in an ominous way, its purple,
its deep purple leaves shredded gloves 

Hollow as promises, their petals blasted,
Their bristled leaves now paned by parasites, 
Their huge, black catacombs all drooping

is a bowl of stars,
not the sunset’s wussy Pink Lady
hours ago, before a solitary dinner—

Customize the event, picking at soul scabs,
turning your face optimistically toward the window.
There must be a long biography coming out soon,

The same ideas or different ones condense,
and you don’t have to sleep again.
Garbage is necessary. That’s another issue

In these situations
I’m trying to figure out what is going on.
So is he too. Purged for oversharing,

. . . or somebody’s going to get hurt.
For my sake, however, keep pealing to a minimum.
We’ll need the firewood you can pick up on the shore

My mother was glamorous in a way I knew I 
never would be. Velvet belt buckle. Mascara 
lash. Miniature crimson lipstick living in the