chuckle, 2am (by winter matthew)

the brown hardwood floor is where it

has always

been.

you at once came

crashing down

through.

where you tore in two,

ten-thousand beautiful flowers

splintered forth

like

hot jazz

graffiti.

the sounds you made upon

impact are little

poems, i’ve saved

them all and the

music tonight

makes me

chuckle.

in the morning,

i shall take your broken bones to

the recycling dumpster, do my

part to

save the

planet.