abandon

(Hi. I hope everyone is doing great. I'm sorry I haven't responded to comments yet. My daughter gave birth to my first grandbaby and I've been busy with her... But I'm so excited today. One of my poems has been accepted for the next issue of Rogue Agent. I'll post links when available. But for now, something I've been working on... It's a work in progress. Thanks so much.)

And maybe we were a little too much
in love with decay. The sensuous
slowness of entropy. Everything
frayed at the edges and dust falling
in our mouths as we slept.

The way disorder threatened to overtake
everything that we loved. Every door
lost or creaking on its hinges.
How we ached to be beautiful, but there
was only mold and rot.

*

We folded dead roses into mattresses.
Day by day, we began to lose control.
It happened, then it didn't. The slow,
sinuous dripping of the tap. The taste

of salt on our lips. I could walk through
any door and find myself crying
in the bathtub. Verdigris and vines
choking all the teacups.

*

That year I was a burnt-out house.
The wind that rattled the windows,
moldy boxes that were never unpacked.
All the light bulbs
and chandeliers shattered,

the carpets littered with broken glass.
We'd look and in seconds
ivy had crawled through the pipes.
I'd look away and look back,
all the rooms turned upside down.