Secret Family

up over the queasy glossed acre of scrub pine 'hind your house
 through the glass of the sliding door it passes now without sound
 leave my clothes in a heap on the floor
 collapse into bed
 the world's dead lid sagging green-black and pregnant
 still it's a fatuous wish to be blank and brand-new
 noticing motion in this sick and sprawling splendor
 spilling guts
 motes were clouds in spokes of shivering sun
 the life to come, the life to come
 you snorted up an orgasm times twenty
 then one day you can't turn the shower on
 look down
 all your birthmarks and scars are gone
 skin pink and virgin
 a burn victim
 what you sloughed off found cold in your bed and mourned
 before ever trying weed
 before the blind opioid glow
 he loved his secret family
 and what a pain
 hiding dilation
 unnatural brightness
 from the corner store clerk
 who never looked up