Mountain Dew poured over
beautiful, crackling ice. Outside:
fog fog fog. Rain, sleet for days.
The valley is saturated, can take no more,
and I forget what her hands look like.
Nicotine,
crown after crown
of sonnets,
Labatt Blue,
Barthes,
Wikipedia,
dehydrated
citrus fruit,
Walmart
gun case,
Fleur Jaeggy,
Neutrogena
salicylic shampoo,
gravel,
Laura Les,
Seagram’s
ginger ale,
USPS,
my boots crack
mud and ice,
hard wind on my back
like a fucking whip.
She once said: I’d kiss you
in all the corners of the devil’s den.
On the longest night of the year
the valley echoed with silence,
darkness deepthroating the past.