i am all of
this evening
these blue
portions of
blood from a

glass-eyed
grandpa who
poolsharked
his 20s intact

& owned half
of the only bar
in a bible town

who gave me
my first book
of tennyson that
smelled like
dutch masters

& an old sock
knotted green
full of nickels

he dares
to set her

smoldering

& aside

as if she

might not

sweep a

mountainside

to ash in 

her rush

to get to

those stars

as though

destruction

didn't dance

on the palms

of her hands

& die on

the tip of

her tongue

brown speckle
carpet its flecks
of whites & grey
the color of

e v e r y
s p i d e r

googling random things this week

like

“synonyms for flouncing” &

“how to buy drugs off the internet”

just kidding

kinda