THE LUCK THE FAUCET


the luck flaked sky my
shining luggage fell through
space of form and ash
your swift lunch rebirths
the room I couch my ham
in livered light and scal
ding cloud was what I knew
I thought your toothbrush
was the key

my face slept in the sink
your thinner tube wriggles
cross the floor my lock
or lunch complected lung
your smile puncher g
lows and thickens was a
rope of glue and stick
y gloves o don’t awake bu
t fumble with the
faucet

half the hair gushed down