In the hollows of ornate empty space
that the body hides,
I place petals with no messages
dripping sulfur, curling on the fire of my bones,
draping the angles with velvet heat,
all earth's trees leading up to a skull
in which the fat of whales and tinker toys are
calculated by a musical laundromat
depositing cigars and masked lips
on the wet concrete's
fractured infinity.