Treasonous and tumbling as dark
from dark, sugar spinning
a hollow riddle to my flesh,
you mutter as sycamores spiral seeds
to key the earth with promised
growth only to gnash against paved
streets and die.
Bones suck at empty stares
searching the marrow
for the sustenance of stars-
the safe. The fire.
And you are at me
with such emptiness to kill.