He closes my window curtains, suffocating the sunlight that dances among the living In decided and purposeful darkness, he embraces me...

His unshaven posture weakens He wilts into my arms as if we’re dancing A delicate dandelion stem exposed to hurricanes A falling toaster...

My mother cleans when she’s sad Our tables have no dust The windows have no streaks The carpet, step lightly, there must be no ware Tears...