1/10/21 poem

^{Anger and spite decorate the entry way like photographs.}

^{My dear old friend, all I know now are museums built from embers.}

^{You whisper in my ear when your head is full of dust,} 

“Grab your coffee grab your coffee grab your fucking coffee”

^{The rubber on my shoes marked up from the day.} 

^{Kicking the car.}

^{Teeth clenched in a union strong enough} 

^{To pierce through our bodies.}

^{A memorable tenderness, far on the horizon,}

^{Jolting through broken telephone wires.} 

^{Static sings past.}

^{We gain consciousness}

^{To the own home we reside.}

^{Prick me with the pen you used to write my sentences.}

^{Pen mark pupils in the days light.}

I’ll be okay when I get the frames. 

I’ll be okay when I get the frames.