Triolets

Do you know why
the patches are hummingbird colors?
Pulses like wings race with lies.
Do you know why
the thread tastes like salt and sighs?
Forgiveness doesn't glower.
Do you know why
the patches are hummingbird colors?

Her sneakers squeak
on purple checkerboard floors
while the music swirls and makes a paint leak.
Her sneakers squeak
and tweak
onlookers attitudes from snores.
Her sneakers squeak
on purple checkerboard floors.

It's the end of the day
you remember. The thoughts that slide you into sleep
fire the clay.
It's the end of the day
or the last words you say
that let your memory laugh or weep.
It's the end of the day.
You remember the thoughts that slide you into sleep.

Are her pants too tight?
Her neckline droops so low,
that you're allowed to touch her, right?
Are her pants too tight?
So if she tries to fight,
she should be shot like a doe.
Are her pants too tight?
Her neckline droops too low.

Haikus

Snow on a Friday
is like antibodies
after I am dead.

When shadows are the
sky, it needs to cry, and we
do if it doesn't.

If bricks erode with
droplets, than what can we do
with our mixed voices?

Cemented chalk-dust
licks my throat, and I reach for
flowing glass to drink.

My sunshine kiss was
meant for you, and two more and
all that I could give.