House
The pennies squeak in your fingers,
wet with the the sky's perspiration.
Drawing their copper onto your DNA-
scraping away the cells of her past.
Strips of trees, plastered to the floor
careful not to shed a drip- a stain
on top of her hardwood tiles.
We Consecrate all our labor on the sheets.
The paint sticks like glue
to her succulent, hidden roots;
Coloring the cover under
her opaque jumpsuit of alabaster.
Awash with tides of a new dawn,
the pennies, the paper, the paint
spread like honeybees in Summer's wake
Formulating the colors of love.
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