( 3 ) EATING
by Zachary Scott Hamilton Face the symmetrical furniture, the chandeliers, the jacket, the green, neon clock. The angel Auriel makes sure of the favorite pair of color swatch eyes, the best way to the nose, wakes eating cakes in an identical Wednesday, dancing on the slides with a hundred years in a letter to the post office, or over a week, so galactic. I am curious, humane, sheltered in scarves. I have grown a lot of wings from maple, and friends in New York. I even found a place for the past, and I will have a healthy fear of you who jangle your keys next to the passage in twilight. I join handmade letters from cardboard, kiss under heavens, float to shore, as Zachary.