Conrad

a hound's tooth coat pockets are bulging

with nebutal bought from some doctor

who also was bought to keep those pockets full

the face was lost but partly recovered

so half asleep and half in a frenzy

one side tries to smile enough for two

pictures remain split at the image

cupboards well-stocked with things to diminish

the pain that comes with clarity and mirrors in well-lit rooms

she checks in at dwindling daylight

a week up front asks not to be bothered

the registry will show her mother's name

locks the door sits on the bed just a minute before

she picks her purse up off the floor

pulling out what she needs

warming her wrists in promising water

somebody's love another one's daughter

readies herself apologizing to the motel maids

double-edged and super blue

vertically letting the life from you

casting a new darkness through the room

angels lay their odds on you

know not quite what they should do

only that they can't quite tear themselves from the view