class exercise? no clue. college, when capital letters were for suckers (are?)

dawn is heavy as pewter caskets

eyelids painted on papier-mâché faces and

death is the color of umbrellas

and clichés, a red canopy over words,

a heavy tarp to hang the rain from,

green like grass grown upside down

and my eyes in the mirror are the color

of steam off a faucet,

my breath clouding silver with

droplets of dew dripping over my face,

This open and shut of stars in the night,

The moon peering through a bathroom mirror,

Shouting at vanity through flowers and rain,

The hand that clasps too tight is sweating

around the earth tonight and like eggs

or my heart it simply refuses to break.