a cool white dial
does whatever it
wants to the cold
in the sudden dark

inside rests an old
jar of mishap juice
great for letting a
few longer, green
sorrows rest until
each wart pickles

a vein's translucent swell
such is the pert cheek of a
working girl besmirched
with grand scarlet lipgloss
mouthing a speaking part
she can't back out of now

each desire ruins calm with
a team of lost dogs yapping
for a chance at an unmarked
white tree that sits waiting for
a warm exchange against this
blue sky like a bed of capillaries
in my lazy eye that fancies windows

my sexual furniture is arranged
for maximum comfort in the dry
tub lined with the plastic i usually
leave on when guests sleep over

the clock's kindly wave to me on its
merry way had all the  makings of a
catharsis the moment one tuckered
goose splash landed on the branches

feathers tumbling slowly off leaves
with the slippery finesse of orgasms
falling down a cute hole in the tiling

i skipped lunch.
my fingers reminded me
too much of everything i had soaked in before
failing to wash that hint of salt from my body
Bruce Louis Dodson