Comp{lex}

With lights switched off the coast is deemed as clear The rise and fall of children’s chests grows deep Her auburn tresses pulled behind her ear Her skirt smoothed down, gun locked in place, takes leap Her charcoal wings unseen against the night In picture books she always fluttered pink She reaches, gropes and grabs it, pearly white She drops it with the others with a “clink” She smells less so of bubble gum than rust Not pixies but the gremlins does she join And to those kindly children who so trust She recommends you double check that coin A treasure for her chamber wall’s neat stack A child’s mind so supple in the black Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Softly softly Pierced by a roar In 11:35 darkness, damp with the smell of cigarette butts and Silence again. Footsteps on the platform Echo as doors again lock hands An eye to the uptown entry Fresh falsetto and a father's alto Woven tight as cross stitched corduroys A bundle in his bear arms "Down came the rain and washed the spider out" With no glance at the small hand on the clock Or the figure beneath it Keeping watch above the N A rejected little shadow In vivid conversation with Moon-colored strands tangling with intention In sacred dance with An unexpected wizard Keeping watch with content With a glance at the rascal spinning the clock "Out came the sun and dried up all the rain" A banjo in his bare arms Frank as the holes in his sun bleached jeans Brows turned in, a grown-man's hymn to another creature on a thread An eye to the downtown entry He pokes at the brim of his overturned cap No treasures today fill its fraying s...

Don’t try to open an aerosol can. it says so in bold black letters. but there’s something intriguing about so much packed in a small space, and the control with which it’s freed into the atmosphere but only one spray, then the finger jerks back. I keep the cap on mine. She tried to take it from my locker, open it, she pleaded, you know instructions are pretense trust me, she blinked, eyes not dark but cloudy I told her she could take a look, but aerosol cans don’t open especially not mine. I told her she could hold it. spray it. But just once. aerosol cans don’t open. or perhaps they just don’t close. There are three ways to get into an aerosol can, force I pride myself on graceful resistance and slow grinding erosion from the inside and heat, of course. I knew she’d get in Not expecting the deafening boom. Photo by Hello I'm Nik on Unsplash

My best friend is nowhere to be seen Invisible But by no means imaginary Because imaginary friends play sidekick And we both know who the creative one is. I roll my eyes Spooning sugar in two paper cups of lemonade My best friend is often misheard Silent But by no means inarticulate. I chew on a word too unwieldy for my mouth I'm missing 6 teeth, after all, "Chagrin" "cholesterol" We toss it back and forth Pontificating like adults Giggling like children My best friend is absent at inconvenient times Tardy But not without apology Swollen eyes under lopsided glasses, blinking back An imagination too vast for these hunched shoulders and little breaths At the far corner of the bathroom Invisible. Pretending. He pats my back With one-handed awkwardness, sense of duty of A best friend My best friend was always a listener Subtle Tonight: pale Why are your lips still, your gaze evasive As I grow and you shrink? As you...