“Film Project”
When marigolds cover a snowy grave.
When distance laps the waves,
the oars we towed away,
the tangled memories shellacked and spackled,
will you cut the tears away, my eyes?
Misery fumes the duchess.
I am hippopotamus desires.
A finger-wrestling match against yourself
in the cantaloupe of night
blind line-dancing
bullet vest, crude choices
through the jungle
fly the wings of this story
her shriveled body
wrapped in grape leaves
arrives from the future
to impregnate the past
crying thousand-eyed stares
spaghetti straps, tortured doves,
fresh yellow jackets
in the bathroom stalls
where you dressed for you.
nicholauspatnaude 
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