Splinters puncture membrane-covered clouds
time and time again her yellow breath
of smog and fog and ink on wet newspapers
sticks to black asphalt covered with May-colored sprinkles
and geometric daffodils unsnapping necks.
A condom wrapper defies the suckwhirl tide and clings to driftwood
and bangles of sky glimmer in a rainbow collapse
of oil. There's metal in her nostrils and linoleum in her eyes;
she slips piles of nails and bloody slime down my throat
along with percussive bells and a flower like stained napkins.