walk backwards
without looking
at the mess
dinner’s cooking
where we left it
stirred and wet
it bubbles
circular swings
in buttered
muscle memory
where we drowned
any semblance
of respect

terra firma
speaks too kindly
of your stomping
feet and splashing
of crimson
from whence
we were all
the same

you’re right to
blush my bride
my crush
these vague
veiled whelps
cloud my mind
i’m soaked
through with
drowned and
risen again
as an anointed
of course


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