Willows

I like them when they fall down
like weeping willows
They’re crisp and together at the same time
as being
wispy, faint, there and then gone

Crackle down the barrel
of a gun
But not a gun gun.
A finger lost
A holiday to remember

I like them when they fall down
like bodies
like Tina Turner’s 80s hair
like everything and then nothing.

Happy Birthday America
You did it.

summer violence.

when the sheets
crumble
beneath your sweating body
damp

ugh—
how gross is that word?

but that's all it—

you're cut off—

it's just a bit of moisture

sick, i said stop.

what?
...moisture?
moisture. moisture. moisture.

pushed to the ground
crumble
why don't you just buy a fan
you dumb motherfucker?

the shape of your mouth.

a whisper takes you in.

come here.

hot, damp breath beckons.

come here.

air breezes by.

no suffocation and no hesitation.

come here.

as subtle as an arms graze.

gentle and inviting.

there is no waiting.

"come here."