u r pieces of stone
turned
because i am frightened by the four
shadowy
edges

here is where you are late
because it is the pale things

in the window

i gaze back at myself

truth is ivory breath

i spend all day
not
thinking

about killing

but

i think about
how i wish people would die -
just jump off
some stupid cliff or ledge
already
then i make a grumpy cat
face
to my own reflection

cut it up more:

& hang the taut
grey-framed
Atlantic

because i like my oceans -
museum-ed

my suspended traps
glinting
dark
against the invisible

finger

tip

far
away
the minutes
are like
loose
rain

the dusk gathers
in corners