sprout stuck between my teeth--i pick you out with care but my gums begin to bleed.
gingivitis, maybe; i always forget to floss.

or too many cigarettes and not enough citrus:
a modern day case of scurvy.

i hope my breath smells fresh as mown grass,
that it won’t deter your mouth from meeting mine.

yet i don’t miss you, exhaust and gasoline,
even though it’s been a long time since you’ve slept next to me.

these nights i lay spread out,
limbs filling every nook of the mattress.

ten a.m. strikes and bleary, my window view is
brick and six inches of sky.

somewhere i smell crows startling sparrows,
seeds scattered in the lawn.