dust drenched cherry stones
make a pile for me
on the sill on which you sat

a pile I’ll take in my pocket
to sew in
the streets I walk
so faithfully, through

stones that now
splinter in my teeth
find root in my gums
and lead lies
down my throat

each its own flavour
its own shade of white
stolen from diesel red
kisses
in the middle of the
night