up over the queasy glossed acre of scrub pine 'hind your house
through the glass of the sliding door it passes now without sound
leave my clothes in a heap on the floor

collapse into bed
the world's dead lid sagging green-black and pregnant


still it's a fatuous wish to be blank and brand-new
noticing motion in this sick and sprawling splendor


spilling guts
motes were clouds in spokes of shivering sun
the life to come, the life to come

you snorted up an !@($ times twenty
then one day you can't turn the shower on


look down
all your birthmarks and scars are gone
skin pink and virgin

a burn victim
what you sloughed off found cold in your bed and mourned


before ever trying weed
before the blind opioid glow
he loved his secret family


and what a pain
hiding dilation

unnatural brightness
from the corner store clerk
who never looked up