A Few Poems

 
 
 Breakfast

 on my knees
 sickly genuflecting
 biting a needle
 pinching a cotton
 I prepare to receive
 my daily sacrament
 communing with a false god
 omnipotent for all I know
 I pray that isn't so
 
 

Doing Dishes

This grin cracks
in the mirror
like an old plate
used too long


Ceramic teeth—jagged shards—
clatter-dance ‘round a blood-rust stain:
the drain agape and unsated—
a silent throat of slime
where a painted flower façade
finds relief in the breaking

 Kamikaze   
 
 I fly my love like a kamikaze
  grasping at divinity through reckless devotion
 knowing it always ends in flames
    and smoking ruin