Have you ever seen an
elephant gas mask?
Dominatrix mask for the moon
or a scarecrow made out
of three mailboxes?

Paper cuts into readymade
bleeding hearts.
Have you ever scored a sore,
exposing the pink continent beneath?

Sylvia said, “Love set you going like a fat gold watch”
but I am made of copper –
the coiled mass from a
mothers unspun thread.

These little houses
have no homes
to hold them – only a plot,
that must steep
in order to thicken.