I feel small.

I feel small
wearing my rainboots on a sunny day.
I want to withdraw,
retreat to the ominous sea.
Absent me from your memory.
You could never understand this soul's dark arcady.

Deceit.

You would think!
that her calico skin
would have given her away;
a hint, at the slightest,
of her wavering intent to stay
or be anywhere or anything certain.

But none could ever see
that this mottled Miss could never be
any shade of steady.

there are no words.

there are no words
to say when
everything's buried six feet underground.