Questioning everything I do,
I don't trust myself to radiate...

Guilt snatches me out
of cozy winters...

I opened the gas
chambers, snuck you in past...

Marilynn, was your story ever composed?
Did you live without any guitar chords...

You look lovely on a page -
peppered in ink and promise...

Narnian dreams attached to lunchbox stickers,
rustic doorknobs, and squealing windows...

Should I approach with caution?
For when my backside is groaning...

Poetry is meant to be tasted, called beloved,
summoned when you have dotted lines on...

The risk of bowing our knees
on the ocean's glaze...

A street sign stood crooked with its
face an arrow pointing straight...

The cascade of admirers
huddle below...

Loneliness-
lukewarm milk dozing off at the bottom of my mug...