...hope chest...

savage clean and picked
tremor shards and tickle
there are ruptures along the run of the of that last laugh
and fickle fissures in her smile

like a living room painting
of a boat at dock
or ducks in flight whispering saturday’s rockwell pleasant
there is a gilded lilt in her agree
and a death valley gone in her eye

god bless and save us
for why it would matter in the world slipped mad
is beautiful
and secret
and billion shared

left turns make races
and finish lines make champs
she finds neither in either
and some how tsk tsk hope
in all the marrow of us all

-05