(no subject)

[disquisitionist]

I could just write all day

the gibberish that she says

the cancer and garbled tones and

where the kids are

the hums and melodies are convivial

mostly nonsensical.

I no longer have a microwave

it was smashed and pleaded and left out in

frost and dust

houses all rowed up like something

very ordinary

wondering, automatically

what to do next

and all the circles that whirl through

and the pleading of ideas to

show through

hands.

So let's get a show of those

weathered fingers dressed with

sterile words

so the bite doesn't kill them.

Brains are just dull medium

sized according to what we've fed

them

and somewhere in a house crowded on a street

piled with dust and frost

and broken microwaves

are the abbreviations

for

loss.