from Lizard

Have you had enough

grief? There’s more.

When all is quiet

it forms in words

as simple as a cup.

It clings to her like

lotion, invisible

silken. The cup is

cracked and the

lotion stings, thoughts

form a hood and

finally she falls

asleep to dream of

impossible cakes and

conductors on tiptoe

putting out fires

before the place

burns down