“Ghost Candy”
Through cellophane fingertips and all,
an artificial world beautiful
in the tip of a spyglass
the rip of an eyepatch
I’ll wait in the cold breath
abuse of a crystal choir
longing tongue and toes and all
recline slip of a lounge glass
and vests made of champagne
iron peckerwood, birds in flutes
and flu sung through kisses
smoke rings in palliative poem,
bird feather clothes,
rest of your heart
close your eyes for angels,
candy for the corner:
cravings for blind gloves.
nicholauspatnaude 
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