—I THINK I’LL RUN FOR PRESIDENT, GET MY FACE PUT ON A MILLION DOLLAR BILL

A.M. Expired

Here I am again,

time-stamped expired,

a sour emulsion,

like an ashtray wish

rising up from

beneath the irises. 

Even the moon

forgets to pirouette,

her hollow bones

nailed to the souls

of so many tree stumps. 

In the barren forest,

I found a corpse

under a great mound of mulch,

life nibbled away,

as ugly as any,

but I took the

ring off your finger,

dropped it down the

well of my throat and

let it choke

the remaining breath

I could never seem to locate.