cupid, gone

february skies &

the world splits open at the seams.

 

Valentine’s is a dagger

carving the calender bloody

 

in your name. in this

home-grown town, the sun

 

is cracked & poached

& sold for a dime. it oozes

 

cold. you waltz

a cloud across the sky,

 

snap pomegranates into halves,

eat three seeds a day.

 

you are always

wandering, searching, digging

 

for pirate treasure.

you know you’ll never find it

 

but you keep digging

anyways.