testament to the wonder of small things (idea)
|his [red eye]s break the window pane of [unconsciousness],|
watching her walk away like some faltering mystery dancing off to superstition.
there is now the cold and some silver fingerprint [on the mattress]
a smell caught up in the corners like succumbing to the jungle and [the etiquette of sinners]
a mist of chemical blonde hairs hanging in the bathroom
the whisper of her anxious heel as she waits for the elevator.
the room [spontaneously combust]s, sulphur butterflies alighting on his flaccid corpse.
(a jewel of tinfoil from her [foreign cigarettes], torture by black stockings)
sinuses crying out protest, he goes to the window.
the used up sheet dies on the carpet in a pool of [cabernet].
the bruises of her [manicured talons] throb in the stillness,
the sweet roses of her breath across his chest curl and stab,
the lies, taken one by one, [silhouettes of melody].
if he doesn't move, [she is still here].