in packard skin


in packard skin reflected
mirrored in the sheen,
alone with only the desert
desolation filled her eyes,
taking gold braid lasso
began to be fluid
with rope,
legs damp under nylon cover
breasts swelled in warm lace,
remembering that match box town
that ignited under her touch,
dust rose,
she had claimed the sun
heat closed about skin,
a game without kisses
and dead flower grief,
heaven would know
of her crimes
the dead that where still afraid,
in a packard skin reflected
spice tainted tongue
needed moisture,
as lasso swirled in frenzy,
acrid fragrance of death
chose to pursue
waiting and smiling,
mushroom column
elevated behind her
it to
reflected in a packard skin

Tiny Fingers

She hooked a finger,

in her mouth

opening a gaping maw

inside this sullen hole

teeth and tongue,

but behind a shine

was it that of an eye,

closer to the mirror

nose touching glass,

stretching fingers out

not reaching,

breathing ragged

saliva ran from the

corner of lips,

pushing her fingers in

further over knuckles

back of hand

to wrist,

eyes widened fear


was her finger bit,


to reach still choking


pain clouded her mind,

not a beast, just her soul

she touched

as collapsing forward

shattered the mirror