if you suppose life
is a lady with
full
lips
all Liquor is
Water
the conception of time
(creation)
wrapped around
empty doors that shine in the night
women that see men in the black sky even when the sun don’t
rise
the bark from the trees lifted ever so softly
leaves crawl up vines that twist and turn
begin to choke out
years of life just to hang loose
everywhere to the left I see poppies, red poppies
the field is glistening
the golden horizon behind it