I.
Two nights ago,
I dreamt of sticks,
their insect counterparts,
and blue mold in my tea.
No amount of yawning could shake
the felt from my tongue—
its dryness cut my gums to bits.
II.
From the way the lamp is angled,
you can tell that no one lives here.
III.
Anyone
who is anyone
knows you can’t
give up the ghost.
IV.
If time had laments,
it would wonder not
how we got here,
but for how long.
V.
Who the hell
thought up
luck?
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