waitress in fall

she wipes the blood from her face
(the sword)
rinses the apron in the cold cold water
(in the blue sink)
lays down the apron

the morning dew demands an answer
in order to dry

walks out

                      *

whether she murdered, was murdered
doesn’t matter

                      *

the autumn air is tender at foothills
clear as water in a truthpond

the morning dew rests
against the blue cheek



Stove

I dreamt I gave you a kitchen stove.
...