the deepest straight line

invisible
the deepest straight line
from me to you
voices never extinguish

bright vivid inks
obstruct a slow, dotted cart
count the seasons

he speaks with one-dollar jaw
in shoehorned sentences
truckload of paint
on trashed sidelines
his art squirms

it was a mean kiss
the kind that says
i don’t love you

by mary ann blinkhorn