I was not mad
I was furious
a furnace of heat
made mad
by love
Ratty red curtains sparkley
with surrender light up
the room you came to
live in.
Prelude to you, my
life was squashed
and picked clean
bone dry by
kinfolk and lineage —
ostensibly with care.
Now you arrive
with gleaming photographs
and pink bubble gum
lustful thoughts
and honeyed kisses
that drive us together
and forevermore crush
The Arbor of Blue Inertia.