Post date on everything
(feeling the mail climb to dangerous hoarder level)
dust hugged the curtains like a war veteran
and I’ll feel jealous as an ex lover.
The pens ink soils my hands
(I promised I’d be better)
the liar blinks past like the Flash
this is Flash Point
and I’m Nora.
Blood dried on my lip
chewing like tabacoo
and the phone will ring.
Covered by yesterday ad covered
by yesterday’s ad and last night’s leftovers
where you’ll find me-
holding a pen hostage
waiting for it to tell thee story.