As cavemen with half-yard sticks
smudging soot on open rock
they hunch
over carcasses of donut boxes
(the wax paper skin folded,
use all parts of the animal)
and grunt in chorus.

stocks are down this quarter,
(anger of the Gods)

sacrifice to the sun,
perform the ancient gymnastic of
rain dancing while kissing up

let the blood ink river run
smooth and whole
pray our intake outgrows
our categorized expenses
let there be profit

(the vesper smoke stings
with the haunting of paygrades
and budget cuts)

We find our heroes
         (as is so common)
         in the throes of agony.

         pacing.

Describe a room
any room
fill it with *****, let it
leak brown and bitter
from the open windows.

       *don't mind the curtains

set your face in the upper left corner
pan across to them, naked and fuming
zoom.
straight to her powerful collarbones
       (stay above the *******,
         just a hint of cleavage)
his wrinkled jawline,
the quarter-inch neck stubble.

keep the shoulders in frame
how they tense, how they painfully
shrug and anticipate the next
verbal battalion.

watch their hands wave away
the demons of past nights        (read: last night)
give us the soft stomp of bare feet
on beaten carpet                        keep the stains.

their teeth reach out from
under the cover of wet pinkness.
take a second (slow-motion)
to appreciate the strands
of abandoned spit reaching from
one lip to the next
like suspension bridges.

the sounds are invisible,
but the pain is not

       *and the bruises
        won't be either

imagine, as I do,
the clutch of tensed pale fingers
on stain-spotted porcelain

tendons stretch like telephone wires  
under perfect, loving skin.

her slop spills over loose lips,
drains itself through antique piping systems,
leaves her skull a musty cave,
slowly panting for revival flames.

                                    he stretches.

the fingertip connects to the handbone
connects to the wrist
connects to the arm/chest/neck/face
         each surveyed in turn, slowly,
         the irises staggering over cloth and hair.

  *his smile is a sunrise through fog,
   the song of angels into a bathroom wall,
   heartbreak from a distance.

there was no night,
only daybreak over two bodies
locked in a mobius strip.
                     one twist of mind, a sleight of fate

and they lay disheveled.

                    *quiet, the breeze
                     snakes through curtain
                    
                     exit stage left.

he found the goddess
like so many do
in a desperate fall through foundation,
clutching to the bleak rim,
praying for context.

his last moment of wholeness
was spent with an upturned face
basking in the backlit rays
of her promise

        time passes
         in a rushed imitation of
         magic tricks and carnival rides

when candlelight flew
from velvetine fingers
he hid from her shadow
humbled and yoked

the neon grin of morning
found him
clutching her breath
      tucked inside the hollows
          sunken through every step
          there was nothing left
          of his body

but two glass eyes
caught forever staring
into her waxen smile

that never thought to melt
that only broke with smoke

      *tell your children:

      hope is a scar
      the fault, mistake
      obsession with beauty
      will roll you in ash
      (a ghost of his telling)
       and empty you’ll wake