folded lists

that and the guilt of another round of cherry
blossoms on the bar of life may go unnoticed. 

that we smoke in congress on the stoop of the shelter
because we've nothing to say to each other inside.

the fire of inspiration is heavy and we can only hold it
to our faces briefly. 

the petals are intact and the ladies are sober
while they await their housing vouchers and custody court dates.

but spring is heavy, as is sobriety as is the wilting
anatomy (tobacco sooths time by chopping it into tiny bits).

the frame of time I am speaking of is midnight to twelve fourteen,
bust the cherry off, it's time to go in.