Marcus Slease



Auspicious Wanderings

a Lemmon seed floats in my milk
auspicious wedding rings fall into drainpipes
shadows stick to the branches
cigarette butts smell like rotten peanuts
Irish flem leaves my throat
recovery is only partially responsible
I might dance
spermatic tissues block the heating vents
mercy swallows the cat’s tongue
the story of our masks is largely mute
understanding is stale
strangers take shelter in the commentary

past simple home