ease, talking to no one in the tall grass on Montrose

there are a few cycles I am exploring

 

tics hiding, but they are damp today and obvious

brushing my lotioned fingertips over my shoulder

 

I find a seething red mass, that’s where I was keeping it

or that’s where I was keeping all of the butter from this week

 

or whipped in the butter is where I was keeping it

this is that reckoning with anger you mentioned would come  

 

I credit a few indigo spirits

it’s a feeling of being loved enough

 

I put on the green coat with green buttons with a little more white in them

a little more white than the green in the coat

 

expose the wrists, mine are transparent

February is a mist colored moon, warmer than a fog colored moon

 

it is the week you forget to check your horoscope

that’s which moon it is

 

I dragged my right scapula closer to my hip

my ribs are clipped together

 

archived in the messy drawer under my armpit

I am surfeited; you have silenced me enough for now

 

there is no need to be saturated with the pieces of you

that require I second guess my basic goodness

 

am I too blue? I have an answer

I will broaden that flesh