soup remains

bubbling broth

holds us up

a slow motion circus

cascade in black

shining and empty

we float

together

humming somewhere

the elsewhere

we knew

this is how we connect

a stew

askew and connected

alien to knowledge

we rise up into an opal

ebony slices of tunnelled

hands holding

this forever

marks us

What constitutes good manners?
How to live a life in smiles?
With browned edges and full cheeks,
sit and eat with me a while.

Remember how we died
and died and died and died?
Remember how this started,
all those sugared goods we tried?

These streets are battered gold
and the stars at night are mallow
and the blue that stretches elsewhere
is blueberry and shallow.

This soup is sized quite poorly:
it’s beef and bread at three,
we can’t move for bleats and screaming and
someone ate the money tree.

Two sevenths run the food chain
and there’s a pipe stuck up my nose;
my bright overalls were expensive
and with my gut they grow.