I painted you sunflowers, fat and rusty golden and broken stemmed.
You wrote me about why the war was wrong and I pictured your nipple hair.
He kills a hundred birds to do this. They are tiny birds. Boy uses a lot of glue but I can still smell the meat. The cage is shaped like a phone booth. It is big enough for two people but the sides are fragile.
Read MoreIn a violent sky I gunpowder in a sentence with you.
This house owes me: I once held walls.
Now my back is a mistake you made from scratch.