Sunday, May 29, 2011

adopt korea

slicing blame in the right direction
for the first time
i count backwards from a hundred
i count loves i've failed
up in korean until i am
three fingers deep.

hours pass
the clock
numbers squaring towards morning.

stained hands
i blamed their white tile welcome
with my shuffling of cardboard sheets
clattering silver spray cans.

i stepped quickly
down the street
fingers tucked in
red palms.

i kick myself in a rectangle shaped bed
i picture
a woman on knees washing
my words with
small beads of sweat, the hours of her day.

my microscopic justice
a sloppy red splatter behind closed eyes.

Monday, May 2, 2011

please put on your mask

last night
we spoke over heads between.

through a drug store
my hips lead the way
a wire tree of cards to the floor.

i rowed the broom.
on knees
you held the plastic lined bin.

this morning
your silence
thick with indifference
yellow dust clings
at soft tissue.