Then love became of plastic bags
of crackers, notes and turkey.
Our stock of sweets to shelves assigned
Whim grocery stock reserved.
Haphazard dreams cube caramels
Each hope and want to stock and hoard.
I keep our mound from waylaid worlds-
shelled dreams of what could be
Intentioned vows: my jellied stash
so sweet, so cold, red precious set
protected there behind the glass:
Forever on preserve.
Crave Starlight Crushed pink lemonade
I ask for apple drink.
Love kumquat freeze, sweet flavor pooled.
It Sunday so you buy me one.
Behave myself. I should not speak.
I hope. I pray. dry powder beg
I drown the boy indifferent, lost
familiar form: sweet Sunday slush.
You drape my brain, with powder chill
please grace me more, I pray for this
To sweeter needs, create for me
delicious days with Dad engaged.
In shadow lace, uncertain hide
Detachment my performance sought:
Digestive dearth, symphonic lurch.
Each stomach pang with twist-turn pull
delivers me to magic states
Starvation is delicious. On
Majestic squirm: her progress pure
New painful twinge, new wanton need
My body stings and speaks to me.
I someday hope
I someday find
a common cast of hollow men,
like-mind by our pallid stares,
our wrinkled flesh, I’ll know my crew
Team human plight, consider me
emaciate companion drained:
Approve me as your member?
JW Mark is a poet living in Stow, Ohio. Publications to include his work include The Ampersand Review, Eunoia Review, TheMidwest Literary Magazine, flashquake, and The North Chicago Review. He is the author of a novel, entitled Artifice, as well as a book of
poems entitled Patched Collective.