New Poetry (More Destruction Loops)

tonight, my mind is
dumpster -
                  lead loaded
                  into pen like syringe.

I sift through the detritus
of seven days:
                 dead dads, dead
                 amor, unrelated
                 relocation.

the night crew comes,
claims
                accidental things and,
                well, I wonder -

which will melt first:
                skeleton or story?
                memories or steel?

***

dreaming each night
   of your death, I

forget sometimes to send
   cards -

your eulogy alive in me
   more than your musty

mudroom, my poems
   still there where you taped them.

***

locksmith and bartender
know me by name.
                                shame

lives uniquely
                       in each.