Ohio
October 2015
i am become a
smoking gun where i was--
where we were-- when
the cicadas died.
i asked what for
while we all lied
on the muddy floor
for all the pavement was worth.
i burnt off the tips
of my fingers and his lips--
they feel smoother now,
but i am all wires and never veins.
there is purity.
there is snow, in me.
these 12 steps of sobriety, helping me--
helping us-- forget how we breathe.