1992
Piero Toto
that weakness coming home to lo-fi & choked guitars sleepless on a first kiss blushingly drawn to lust they found us in folds of language our teen years a synonym for we weren’t my father in the kitchen gasps for money? with another man? his table and flowers stolen only words for shelter how cruel this snow exposing the ice in fingers & frost like branches awaiting the snap suddenly the day breaks to barter a name for closure it says we are our own now everything’s ablaze