Joshua's Tomato Heart

these plump bulbs like
homely noses, promise
changing hues before the month
of June and I visit

always on the other
side, your devoted daughter your
garden bride. love

shape-shifts
through stucco walls,
catches me, cuts me:
a tomato heart on a slab

 

pearl with the girl earring

you are mistress
of old evidence,
yet that does not stop
me from sanding you to death.

a simple bruise—no fancy terms

your house tilts
within winds of my bloody
imagination

and therein
lies the bruise,
beaten like a beefy heart

dragon-dead, still slippery
with scales of steel betrayal.

ah, my mercenary
smoker. there was never

a fire, merely ashes
too damp for a final drawing.

Lady Falter and Sir Bumble

slide on the same avenue
each same day just after noon

they bob, curtsy, bow, nod
longing only to text
from afar—that intricate hieroglyph
of deformed thoughticons.

he wonders if her fur
is true or false, a shade just warmer
than ice-castle blond.

she questions his slapstick
intentions when he offers
her bouquets of bleeding umbrellas.

they attract
waves of pedestrian attention
during tryst-session as it may become
known all over an ever- peeling dilemma.