After Smile

by Evan Carroll

where’re the candied apples of your youth,
stick-glued to garbage somewhere
out at sea, our un-tethered whore,
where’s the smile that
cooked eggs
out of shells so fine,
miles out of minutes,
sugar out of brine,
does it still crinkle
like age rings of a half-sawed redwood,
sure ripples of the Tiber
at high broadcast wind,
ferret free from whatever
keeps you up tired tonight,
‘cause you’ve made these
ventricles, no longer blue,
sing