singe songs

eyelashes crumbling, a curling photograph you throw
into the sink, too late. how will you remember. self-
immolation is easy, but when some other hand is striking
the match, it is pure simplicity. hold a magnifying glass
up to you and wisps of smoke will rise, burn memory
in a metal jar and then clench it between your fingers.
sing of everclear and lighter fluid while you smother
your dreams with scarred hands. sing of scorched
mothers and fathers with a throat gone dry and raw
in the smoke. you are burning the fields. there is new
seed to sow and new rain to pray for.


[it starts like this: shock sullying the surface]

it starts like this: shock sullying the surface. mud clings
to bird feet, to toad tongue: already pinned the unfortunate.

sticky blackness in blackness hides under rocks
and snatches passing ants, kidnapper of industry.

mushroom light in the distance: the swamp will swallow
unrecognizable after a month of inexorable loneliness.

souls hang in damp mist that has never seen open sky:
we alight on water like dragonflies destined for jewelry.