This chunk leapt out at me
…several months after her death, the male disappeared from the marmoset group, never to be seen again.
And gave chase
Looping over and…
getting tangled-up,
in everything.
Like how every pop and shush
of steam from the coffee maker
is nestled in woven loops of
never to be heard of again
Maybe that’s why I never made that second cup.
I mean, fuck—out pops a clown:
if all I get out of it is grief,
why should I even turn you on,
oh ye coffee pot o’ doom!
That was close wasn’t it.
You can always count on a clown,
though, ride in last minute,
keep you alive another day.
