What I Don't and Do See

dry ice is not what i see
peering into the partial moonlight

spilled like diet drink

seeping into the floor

what i see here is a porcelain plate

chipped

dipped in juice

cast into the hard sand

a planet awakened by hail

what i see is a reckless hamstring

a president with handfuls of pink roses

and some assistant named Ross, hair covered with pollen

clasping his hands like kitchen gloves
magnets are all around