Month: September 2020


One house had hooks and stairs. Sharp corners and forest. This house is smooth, considerate, and many-plugged. Cats, exploring, find concrete caves down a flight. Loud laundry in the kitchen, but nobody is bitchin’.


Hot gossip

I told you, from a distance, that I loved you, and was blackened with the earned shame of the illicit. Noses sniffed. Fingers pointed. Hands covered whispering lips. But you? You had a look of surprised wonder, and blushed redly, uncaring of the devil’s radio.



I carry scissors just for this, you know. Straddle the lacyness. Snip snip (at the seams, mind you). What’s that, a bit of talc? Ah, but you feed me with dream. I lay in quandary, ear to the cotton. My dirty laundry is long forgotten.