time
against the grain
love poems are burnt in heaps
and flower beds are constructed
to commemorate the absense of presense
of all thought of every thought of you
but I forgot to remember the thing I hated
when you fell in flower beds
and I covered you with the last
black rose deconstructed dreams devour
the glossy retinas of the past seventeen years
when life was the end of all struggle
and deviants became all worth saving
but you forgot to remember the end of the last time
but all of them were the begginings
when alarm clocks put babies to sleep
in yellow rooms filled with cigarette smoke
exhaled fumes and the clanks of scales
reflected your absence of color
in plastic teething toys
drenched in my snot choking on the end of all beginnings.
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