Apocrypha / Dreams
Vegetable potato popcorn butter.
Microwave, microwave. A pair of tongs
like tongues like / out of the linings,
up inside the linings. Shhh my stone lungs,
my blue stomach. Ask the house
if it can be a house, it will sit up on a shelf,
on a rocky ledge. You say honey, honey
because you’ve just got nothing. Shine
the dialogue to expose the rough wood and bars,
rough hands, there are no bones here.
You picture a skillet in the new kitchen
and you clean it, neatly. You put it on the shelf.
I look back for a second and I really see you.