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I look out for double moons.

The mind transitions through dementia

like night maps of LA County.

Two faces of the same geography,

but one sees itself by light pollution.

I forget my name is Edith.

The kitchen and I lie together in a tray

like ice cubes. I hoped

this new language could stave the rust

of www.tadalafilonlineoffer.com disuse creeping in like Jerry’s toolbox

under the sink. (Water-Door makes a dam).

The sink itself. (A mouth and a horse

make a question). Bowls of fruit and words.

Tell me the one about the woman

in freshwater department store pearls

and the charcoal camisole draped

over her shoulders. Every time I learn

a new word in this language

she looses the word in her first.

The days of the week collapse

to the stars, hear the noise they make

as the fall, fall in xing xing xings.