how i found myself walking through the
forest of leaning trees is beyond me
but i like the landscape, the view
my eyeballs soaked it all up to
fill the void of missing you
the beach was littered with red that night
near the end of September
the sun was mourning the end of its reign
the fact that he’s so blazing here year-round
was little consolation
he gave himself a pity party
I just remained and enjoyed the constellations
I hope to see the blue deep
before I leave this world
have it be real
not a dream
have my ears echo from
all the calls of the sea
feel content when I taste
the foam like cream
I wonder if the Hulk ever hit his mother.
Did he ever graze her cheek
with his massive green fist so fast,
so hard, she couldn’t speak?
Throw her out of his room,
out the window, out of the house?
And I wonder if when he returned to normal,
did he recognize her scars, her hurt.
I bet he couldn’t remember–like him.
Darts his eyes from the display of pain.
Doesn’t move when she flinches away.
Doesn’t recognize the tears
because he can’t remain.
And I wonder if Stan Lee understands
what it really means to love the Hulk?
To stand in his way regardless.
The supernatural drive to help him stay calm,
despite the horror, despite the harm.
The relentless love at stake…
all the tender, godforsaken love it takes.