Lock your car doors, you said, in black trash bags.

Count fingers. Suffocate ten. Ten trash bags.

 

She lived in a bowl of white-red-blue jewel.

Where the banana peels sleep in trash bags.

 

I tell you too much, the park in the Bronx.

cans go out on Sunday, two clear trash bags.

 

I find myself climbing inside; black air.

What does a body do between trash bags?

 

There’s too many girls. Always has been.

Turning inside out in twilight trash bag—

 

A kind of crow gone pig-skull & ageless.

Mundane, the street lamps fear every trash bag.

 

I should think less about shadow’s insides

Drown policeman prayer book, breathe through trash bag.

 

Her skin sold plastic, swallowing trash bags.

They found another body. Black trash bags.