what once was loved.

She has a mind for corners

& dying cigarettes

Half bent on the grass

Like an archway to the bees

Swollen- trotted

it’s always-something

she calls on him

& hears his voice

Though never sees his face

Her finger laces the air

She moans – I’m such a liar!

The deer scatter, a window opens

The sun setting like it’s broken.