He killed Abel
because it seemed
the only answer
to all that went unquestioned.
She stares up at the structure basking in the morning light, and wills herself into a state of mind in which the house can be like a god, and then gets comfortable against the cool, damp grass, the hard fence behind her, an insect of some sort tickling her left wrist as it investigates her presence.
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so many interchangeable letters collapsed in the machine of subversion and normative praxis. i am the blade and blood exuding from her pleasure wound.
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The grass in the yard was thick and scratched my ankles
and in summer it was too hot even under the palm trees
but back inside Tom Selleck is young again, gliding across
the screen, and you are in the kitchen, and I wish it would never end.
I'd hate to say,
“It was all for nothing”
But the truth is:
“Nothing is all it is.”
We had planned to leave,
But she was slowly torn at by the baking pains,
They came up in her and at her and through her,
And she had to soothe herself.
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I don’t want to convene in a room with fluorescent lighting and compare journal entries based on a prompt some failure handed out,
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Shortly after the lackluster hugs that initiate our reunion,
we decide to walk the Brooklyn Bridge.
I describe what the Bridge looked like during the Uprising—
the cops, the chants, the clashes.
They don’t ask any follow-up questions.