The truth is dark under your eyelids.
What are you going to do about it?
The birds are silent; there’s no one to ask.

only its maternal dark
could make us luminous.

Teeth-marks intact.
She tied a red ribbon
Halfway between

Very peaceful, except,
There’s a faint moan

This landscape with its somber skies
Must have fallen in love
With a story by Edgar Allan Poe.

bent as I was
intently
over the particular.

He liked drunks in church,
Nudists playing volleyball,
Stray dogs making friends,

On a morning otherwise sunless,
Strolling arm in arm
Past some gallows-shaped trees

Our life stories are scary and droll,
Like masks children wear on Halloween
As they go from door to door

When she still knew how to make shadows speak
By sitting with them a long time,
They talked about her handsome father,