FIVE POEMS

Explain This Corpse

Why is it drowning? Why unpinned
floaty locks, inset with fallen
leaf&filth as if any buoyant trash

were jewel? Why painted pale—
not pale and bloated? Why more adored
minnow-lipped than when she

breathed air, spoke? Why love we
such dank ophelia? Why rather this
only dead only girl? I won’t. Any-

more I prefer nunnery. For me, mine.
My crush of crones know several rivers—
one is age. We row it sure, dip&pull.

We throat coarse boatsong thru lipsunstriving since birth towards blue.And so this