not an apology

It seems strange in a way that we can picture the dead

My body is not an apology

repulsed haiku

The taste of green apples
suddenly repulsive
I wake up in snow

fondle me with your
memory, darling please,
a lovely shade of blue

if you are here unfaithfully with us
you are causing horrible damage

Jumping on your trampoline in
your double wide
Sacramento windy
eliminating the words between
us

one letter at a time
wonderbread stress balls
in each fist

higher and higher
with every bite

Everything that was
Just isn’t anymore
Who is this person?

It’s the sort of thing women lie about,
how much things cost;
orgasms.

“suicide is the
last triumph of the ego
to make the world wrong”

“That’s a possibility”, Janice says,
her face opening cautiously,
a dull flower.