I'll rust in this light
All my pale iron crumbling, red, brittle
Missing the cool oilcloth rain
That always kept me safe
From corrosive plasma playing on my skin
Like a toddler with a toy train
Seeing how big a bang he can make
I reach down and rip up dandelions
No change since I was three
Marveling at the welling white milk
Tearing away the leafy green cap
Until my hand is filled
With feathery yellow confetti
Which I let the wind scatter for a
Brief beautiful flight before
Vanishing in the grass
Anything
To avoid doing the dishes