that's mrs. mediocrity to you

on a wall
standing tall
for no reason

narcissus and woodpecker
posing as imprinted
impermanent
tattoo

listen

.

.

.

morning mirror and happenstance
pulling hope down at the corners
of a month meant for introspection

snow blows sideways against a window
curtained

a sparrow fights for survival

everyone, everywhere
arguing about books

and this is silence
holding tight
to a morning
short on light

showing up
as always
never quite
arriving

.

is buried in alaska

i know this because
you told me once
sitting on a square picnic table
beneath a dry dark sky
lit with acid green borealis

cassiopeia and orion
the only witness
to a wedding meant
for other people
another time, another place
blah, blah, blah
you get the picture

just a far off
long gone
atmospheric memory
rippling light and music
to lovers in a land
we’d only dreamt of

we watched in silence
for hours
those hours,
cradling minutes,
the quiet,
bone cold
seeping up
through cheap
cracked boots
and hol(e)y
handmade
mittens