Say What Strange Motive

I’m zippering my mouth, locking it

and throwing away the key.

At least that’s what dwells in my forebrain.

A bloodstain on the wall should be

explained to those of you who 

just arrived. Please sign the ledger first.

A skull contains matter, as we know.

A delicate eggshell crumples under

pressure. A ball-peen hammer bangs.

Put it all together with some spatter

and everything you have seen

on screen plays out like a dream.

I could have been an artist

in another life, a painter of paintings

that leap out at the viewer.

The less I say now, the better.

My Red Rose steeps in pink ceramic.

Today I will have it with lemon

and honey and a potent narcotic.