day’s little death in the east
hidden behind
sleet-snow curtains

day little death in the east
hidden behind
sleet-snow curtains

M-mm, steaming water
tea-stained cup
before the bag dunk
scented as if steeped
better one on rack?

counting beat constrain
away from supercali-
fragile liscious …is —

your photo will be taken

in the grey government waiting room of stifled coughs,
not even a cream-faced clock to encourage
conversation’s spark. wincing squawk of bottoms
shift on black vinyl seats, watch the numbers A119,
C257, A220, A221, A222, C258, A223 as yours
draws near they throw in a F103 to make it clear who
is in charge. A sneeze arches over the rows of seats, pink
purple and burnt sienna paisley, decorated victorian lace hem,
the flu loosed, a ying yang unhinged, swung clear floating
as a quarter moon unmoored, pulling an influence over where
the white of eyes don’t look, nothing to be done but wait
for your number to come up. The black-haired cherub,
tongue stuck out in concentration, is held in the eyes
of his father, locust position on the seat, legs twitching
til he flings himself into the air, running stiff kneed
head tick-tocking as he runs figure eights around columns
his open laughing mouth the most color in the room.