writst

i clocked the watch once
and wished its red hand
swept across your face
i knew i’d want the date
i saw the toy’s hallmark
that predates its maker
cupid’s bow pointillism
it looked best in color
i slipped on a staircase
tripped on slippery oak
fell into a concrete pool
cut and bruised joints
you caught me there
held me — rubbed salt
into my fresh wounds
to heal and to hurt me
a thin black strap is all
that holds back the sun
when this camera falls
it’ll leak light forever
three solid bands form
an unbroken bracelet
brass never gleamed
until becoming a label
holding mine down
against white silk,
gray wool, graffiti
it’s easy to go deep