Spiders in the Windowsill
the blue ink of glowing
stretched-grin and peppermint-gin
moon
mixes in with the
dusty cobweb and
day-before-a-funeral
gloom
your words were spoken
in a red-mouthed
green-juice kind of
raspy-hairspray voice
now which makes me think
of the coffee-smelling
burning photograph
kind of day that it’s been
i liked you for
your striped face
and out-of-place
hazy pink daydreams
because the color of your hair
smelled
like an hour-old cup of
tea
and so i look closely at your
ashes
through the dewdrops
on my lashes
and breathe in
the honey-butter sunshine
to you i will say this once
and only once:
i’ll miss you dearly,
love of mine