regret one
was quickly gone
a cool surprise
among known eyes

regret two
the poser who
stood alone
stared me down

regret three
came to me
in a place full of ghosts
and rising smoke

Riding the city bus, I Looked
down and saw the stickly green
sucker - possibly displaced
from make-up flowers or house-bound plant.

Seemingly struggling with it’s wings;
struggling like I do sometimes
with mine. I wondered how it would
fare, this broken tanker, fallen:

steering west across my legs;
clinging to my dry sea
of cotton - every crease a wave
each crossed-stitch a current.

she didn’t care
that I hadn’t washed in days
or changed
my tea-stained trousers

The kitchen pane: glass canvas,
splashed at from stirred rain.
Streaming trails, declarations
to make Pollock proud.

It forms fast and angular,
with lambent silver
veins - as if the moon had leant
and wept it's burden.