Shira Dentz

inversion, salt lake city

where there used to be mountains,
a soggy blue woolen blanket
a little mud-caked.
my eyes so tired keep
closing, clsing, kp clsing thm.

sky a sooty mess again. lipstick trouble.

saws are sawing
my eye waits
wafts through colors
ivy soya regenerate twig
forever look do ya have a match
tick tock
no stopping green
eyelash lid
blackreap my own
how do you get music going
with a saw grinding into the wall
you said color isn’t music
the sound of boring is a bass

my head stretches beyond
want to take it off
with a spoon.
am shuddering cuz am cold
have nothing fancy to wear
not the tutus of trees brown.

pumpkin trash bags,

age all around a grove
tail green
where

limbs don’t like
the point of light
so near their leaves.
licorice
revolver
mountain
outline.

watching mountains
like flame,
only slower.
pom poms on pines.
if i were facing
the other window.
licking, a graying
cape.