SKULK HOUR

All love is careless

bleating sadly into some thing or other or

mainlining its way into varicose

The millionaires of summer

swelter away in Old Montreal

delve deep into marry me’s

I’m scared all the way

down the skill hull

it’s always a point of almost-pride

No setting to this poem

but your mind’s alright

and the pediatricians are sleeping

so just skulk softly