but everything grows here,
maybe twinned, or red (forest),
or thick-skinned and wanton.
people start leaving. everyone always leaves,
everyone. no one comes home,
no one wants to die, swallows reclaim
cracked sarcophagi and
erstwhile, they celebrated decay.
--
legs propped up in the bathtub,
and the veins;
how much they are like cracked asphalt with
tiny lilacs peeking through.






