MY ANTHROPOLOGY HAT

in the ITU 

drug room

the dead eyed 

nepotism porter

regurgitated

advertising copy 

at 

me

thinking 

it 

was
conversation

~

i survived

by wearing

my anthropology hat

winter dawn 

a joyless

arthritic 

dimmer switch twist

smudging up the privacy glass

would that i had the 

energy & compassion

to point out the

daytime moon to him

WHEN THE DUST IS PROVERBIAL

 

& promise me hollow

a footnote quote typo

on a dry bench plaque

& promise me like ad copy

a lit candle guttering

in a poverty draft

when the dust is proverbial

& the ashes too

~

& i will do 

what i can do 

to deserve it 

this morning

before afternoon auto-sedation

&

evenings anxious riptide suction

saving up my pennies

for a mushroom suit

every careless reset