The composition ruptures, slips.
We staple, glue, and sew, so there is teetering.
Parts of the brain won’t cooperate.
The subject of the story will say no.
Mourning doves need more time.
Talk wanted to talk about itself.
Lilacs became wind.
The garden was betrayed for amplified sadness.
It can own you sometimes.
Some of us liked each other.
Some of us wept behind picnic benches.
Voyeurism isn’t always creepy.
The ethical fallout made us very tired.
Prescribed pills were maybe too many.
Spines really have no symmetry.
Seesaws can’t even the score.
Dancers don’t have one leg shorter.
Someone loved before less mattered.
Facts often act factually.
Notes needed notes to understand.
No one should panic.
All the seats recline.
Eager trained dogs dig for survivors.
The moon weeping between arms separates the dead.
Small children know mostly none of this.
Morbidity can only go on so long if we are lucky.
There are no homesick clouds.
No one calls without color.
We’ve forgotten the TV.
By the time you hear this, everything has switched.
We lost the oars.
Eternity might be a corridor of trees.
We’ve voting if this act is over.
On the next page, everyone is gone.
This time wear black.
This time don’t say you’re sorry.
Piano music will fill the strange room with scales.
It’s not all that much.
Some days end before they begin.