three untitled poems, bit of a bummer
one
i like us in a fogged up mirror
in tv static
in fairy lights
i like us in a dogs eyes
in melting snow
in runny ink
i like us on a clouded evening
though a second story window
in stained glass
i like us in a mud-bottom river
between cracks in a boardwalk
through thin apartment walls
i like us across the room
i like us facing away
i like us in air filled with dust
two
a pint of strawberries molds in the outside fridge
still there because i am so used to seeing them
an old screen door slams, rust flakes off
certainty in the stillness that follows
a laugh rings underneath a walnut tree
it’s not for me, but i look regardless
three
we cut our tongues on broken glass
words that taste like tree sap
lying face up in pine needles
dry leaves stuck to your back
i am holding something blue
and there is nothing to see