It sits sometimes in mush
sometimes in sharp fragments
but never quite whole -
Like the spirit in the attic
or a wedding band worn but not yet done in for -
You’ll find gasoline snow is a more accurate way to sit with yourself.
Sometimes, you’ll find -
An officer’s head as she carries out an unjust justice
is much like the inner metal of her car’s front tire,
and that bittersweet smile when there is nothing much to say
is loaded like those toenails, glaring, done up for that very night.
Her hair after all these years -
Headstones not yet touched
Point of return
It all is like the color of a mirror with no reflection,
the color of Devil(s) and God(s)