scorpio

squealing gangs of kids are melting all the snow
with sparklers, water dripping down your hair and
sizzling on the pan. we were cooking like eggs
in there. good thing you got us out when you did.
we might have broken our yolks
or been made to perform grape juice rituals
in a carpeted basement while
the congregation frothed
and fidgeted circles around us, writhing in
their black and red
frenzy, apple juice lost
in the rummage.
i don't mean to make things sound so grim,
its just that i've capsized my bathtub
and my frozen licorice vines are wiggling in the water.
im getting used to it.