There is pepper on the raspberries
To show she does not like
Fuck Alice
He says
Everything gets stuck with coffee
When Alice is
gone I cannot speak
i…we…
Were not allowed to speak
That is why we write
Words
Like spiders everywhere
Letters on the ceiling
An illustration
To figure out
A problem
That has become a code
I have to make it words
Again
To make it me
Again
He licks his fingers and leaves
Inside we breathe
We hated his sallow nicotine mornings
I tap the boots three times
We are not home but the leather is wearing in
Softly
Falsely
Following advice in one sink
Chasing it down the other
Ah, I think
Tap my toes
The pepper
It is not on Alice ’s
tongue
It is on mine
Last night
At the sink
The broken powder
Bitter
spit rinse bleach
The taste becomes a memory
More of a memory than the time lost
Skin lost
Powder gone
That was it
Measuring up the dose along the constant edge of the
scissors
It makes sense
A little
And we wipe our mouth
Ready for the next dose.
