REMedy

wondering how quietly
i could vomit into the kitchen sink
it's three in the morning
fixed on mucha's spring 1900

as if some measure of stability
exists there

eyes tell lies to the brain
caresses to die
only the heart
could ever really know why

she faces a wall now
smiling from the night stand
for the soft plateau texture
the flat opaque coating

the ants trailing
to something expired on the floor

bellini's ah dolor! ah terror!
leaking from the little buds
nestled in my pocket

the ceiling growing
as tall and as empty as the sky

amused by the complete and utter absence

of life