Concrete Concubine

I am a kept woman, 

concubine to the King of Concrete. 

Do I amuse?  Draw you in?  Closer now, come in, come in.  I am a collector of men.  See how the land you pick through lies,  I have been told that I surprise... 
I have been told    in flashed winks  and smiles of anticipation  in rooms where I am merely decoration  that I unsettle. 
Do you dare?  Beware,  I handmaiden of high-rise  dwell in air and there lies  a paradise  many flatly strain to reach.

On Chesapeake

The sun teases the waves  like a matador teases a bull  with a red that registers  slow, violent reaction. 

The Hour of the Lamplighter

Brown leaves cling tenatively  as the hedge sneezes sidewalk chalk. 
Red bycicle and lamplight wait.  I, six years tenative  take little note. 
My tounge sticks out...  Snowflakes twirl in twilight

The Basement of Lost Fathers

In the household of the odd god  there is a basment for lost fathers.  Inside it smells dark and green;  like pipes and crackling leather. 
The heat defeats.  It is bare, like a lightbulb.  Iron rails  stare at creaking fans. 

Monsters

Loose cannon do you still cry 

when someone doubts  there's a monster in your closet  or claw beneath your bed?  Is your head  still stuffed with muffled screams  and toy soldiers?  What smolders  in your corner of rusting sighs? 
Your eyes are canyons sometimes  when light is right.  They frighten me  the way that monster in your closet  frightens you.  Stuffed gargoyle smile while  you grew I remembered.  

Times Square at Midnight

One  Electric  Spit  Of time.

Anything

I think and find  I wouldnn't mind  not doing anything at all  if it were you  I was not  doing anything at all  with.