Hurrying away from a shiver
she made me feel so cold in insults,
frigid when I rested morose in a sulk

Lying on ice is a chilly bump.

I’m warm when I’m walking
though a storm is stalking, but if
I rest a moment I’ll be cold

Lachrymose skies hover
since she threw me out cold
without my umbrella or razor

A storm is stalking me in her name;
I have no umbrella for shame, no

it’s a shame she never knew me
never knew how poor I was
how rich

I gave her all the grandiose she wanted:
the sunrise, the sunset, the expensive flowers
but she could not embrace a pauper who
might write a frozen poem to be
intentionally defrosted and served
growing lachrymal joy and flowers afield


Needling needs,
I pricked my finger
on a cactus needle
raining blood moods,
my dry cactus waiting for my face
to water it with my eyes, but it

doesn’t mind the salty water
as cacti don’t chortle often
they being a bit prickly where
the hot desert is cool
scorpions kinder than you
a thorn on a rosebush. You

bled me dry high
made me stand on my toes
seduced me with your bush. At

the behest of you, Rose
snakes I loathe less