the color of the preservative fluid is: aqua
despite the scent of lemon
and the hint of cataracts.

I brush the barren regions of sand dunes
to sculpt them into hands
whose lines like origami
have valleys
and ravines to hide the
effects of gravity

the colors of her eyes are slightly yellow
the aging twists of decomp
osition

as the color of her skin turns
pale to the sun

the slightest discoloration will have
begun
with feathers
falling from the muscles upon her ankle

if she were lucid dreaming
with Icarus
the melted wax would be less sallow
and her hands
and teeth
would smell of tallow
and soft entrails

foretelling the future requires
the very finest in fresh cadavers
for the medical school
pays not by the pound

but leases the test subjects from the city prison
inheritable through indecision

the color of the rotting flesh;
an additive to the new blend of mojito
it's the fastest-growing trend
in the fastest growing cities

where soylent green is in the newest nativities

the color of the most recent creation
is enough to condemn any vacation
I wanted to circumvent
your shaken not stirred

over the margarita mix
only my moans for sex and serious
professions of love

I heard you say you had sliced up the last piece of fruit
the lemon scent of our last recruit
after this there will be
no more war

we surrender unconditionally; it's about time that we
let the losing team be sore.

in misery, I think; arises something more.