I come to your door with a mango smoothie
because you are sick your world inverse
like that Star Trek episode
where bad Kirk’s goatee reflects the Jolly Roger
leaning in I watch you sip sunny nectar
exhale only shadow
I know I cannot heal you
love never a healing word
as I know from your trailing mascara
you lack faith to keep this down for long
at least I have offered a favorable flavor
for the coming up again
like a bottle of sauce
to dress the lesser meat