Sugar Ross

Tremors in arms, wrap cords,

Deliver sad psalms, the uneven



With reproach, she moans

In dismay, I can’t help but

Join her side


Of roads, wind swept

And foreign, the common

Sty, of what it means to lie

To yourself


I can’t help but trace a finger

Down your spine, stepped

Rigid with worms or what’s

Left of


Large oval eyes, trapped

Sparks, in hands, in palms,

Fingernails—slathered love:

The lover’s fold


Placed deep in the center

Of those who wish for

Resolve, to remember the



Sometime in the fall, we

March the step of scorched

Paws, rooms of butterflies,

Hanging in frames


Spiked down—

Representing the beauty you had

When I last wrapped

My eyes on you.



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