The Poetry of
Michael G. Khmelnitsky

lantern near the ceiling
hangs low
it's sway speaks of my loneliness

fingerprints on the glass
fingerprints on your face
blank lines

syncopy tangram uvula
rum talcum marrow
troy cosine imminent

we'll have many days
the hours will melt into clouds
the people will speak

but we will beg to differ
we'll go get our nails done
we'll go to a spa
it's a date