I
____ smiled that kind of icy blue smile of a noonday
reckoning, the tied together two of tell-tale pictures
i've sketched in sand castle plots and plans. similar
starting points, both for sin and shooting blanks. but
it's always the unseen sharp pang; the awkward rhythm
of the dance like a tick-tock clock in that heart of
hearts repeating, "there is no happy here, there is no
happy here..." devil may care touches trickled down
spine, thigh, and breast may never [bad word] illuminate
the finer art of heartwork.

II
i was turning over with the sheets, and facing the
arched back thinking of how my eyes, half-opened,
caught her arm moving from side to side, but never to
me. it's all connected by blank words to tell empty
promises of clumsy [bad word]  so we say what we
will, to see what we may, to find a Biblical knowing
enfolded within the next few hours. it's too bad, too
tragic... i spent myself choking on the motions
leading up to said misfortune.