Quite naturally, we’ve been collecting photos/ wrap them up in plastic suitcases
preserve them/ loving things/dead and easy ways of what was/ what scars/ what sacred dark symposiums

Confidential truths, yellow-yoke factories
golden, broken-folds playing over and over

three minutes/runbacks
seven minutes hard -boiled
we like them five-minute memories scrabbled

among the distance, it has taken many stretched arms
too stretched out of love to call them holy
too tired to press out any more lies
I’m not sure we could

quite naturally we are, scattered pictures of 1988
polaroid black, white stripe at the bottom

moving steadily, while the sun sleeps over yonder
playing in the dark, rising lungs gasp in weepy
rainbows, written in the veins of private sectors
living this that is…

change with suitcases, black duffle bags,
no strings or at least we got on Greyhound that way.

Left all that, sin-crap standing on the curb.
kick rocks, beat them, drown that sorry out
One bedroom, three children sleeping.
Bumper stickers, Jesus saves on windows.

Pancakes for breakfast, for lunch for dinner too
Put that polaroid on repeat, play it back slow

and remember~ your kindness sister Krissy Mosley