Easter Sunday,
                        (I guess);
still up since the morning in my soft sweat nest,
naked, at least emotionally

   -lest in fake company’s faceted face
    some eye which festers trifold
    unbolden crumply vintage laced-.

Is this day not for cloth and ribbons

of best? ..

           ..and leaning on laughs
          bound from families
        vaulted chest?
Embracing the snake race
            I guess
backward move to started
thought proves endless
looping foreword progress.