Junkyard 1-3 (week 6)

Junkyard 1
Slipping went the joker
in checkerboard across my sink
while I cigarette dance,
my porcelain flagstaffs.

Junkyard 2

You plum bump
that rests uncoiled
in my driveway.
You lump my throat
with Benzin
and pad my eyes
with oily rag-rubber.

Junkyard 3

Dagwood hair
crossed out waves to
the leash. The tie wrapped
around your neck swinging:
“Please pull me down.”