silverhandle/whitedoor

creep
in distort jade

in dying sky floor

whiffle spatula
woodroll pin

when was last worn that

lace napkin?

slipped it over the hook

      how limp

once urged life swell

blood-rush, singe.

all these pretty things remain

floating like dust amidst train

harmonics, 

settled over patterns of

sweet domestic cool romance

but has not blot them.

new roommate, new girl on floor

but Mr. you have a ghost living 

behind your bathroom

silverhandle/whitedoor.