No one knows
exchange like I do
My shirt’s the same
color as pain here
loyally I suppose

….

My business is
nothing about it,
a question flung
these windows in
your hands. Shall we

have commerce, or
little else, whose body
in a cup of scars?

PABLO LOPEZ resides in Providence where he writes brittle lyrics addressed to emptiness: Like charcoal in the hands of a fool—it cannot be helped nor should it make flesh malignancy’s ballast.