mute

why is it that i hear screams in the night. when i close my eyes, and it’s quiet. flashbacks of you, having to be restrained. you biting, biting. i’m bleeding. memories of you strapped down, pulled full of ketamine. close your eyes, close your eyes. i’m pleading.

dormancy

I like the way the water seems to go the right when the wind comes in from the east.

And when I look up and squint, I’m reminded subtlety of a winter’s tree.

Barren branches just at the top and a bird giving a low, lonely call.

Within a second I’m reminded of where I am.

A place where the screeches of mowers are never-ending and the sun always shines.

The longing always remains though— to have a break from the heat and for it to be so quiet that I can hear the falling snow.

inconsequential

had a dream of my father last night
sitting across from me in a ferry
going which way, I have no clue
he faced the water, he wouldn’t look at me
he seemed mad at me, like he knew
I wanted to ask him
about the time he wanted to die
but I remained silent
the winds played with his thick mane
the low gray clouds behind him
ushered him back
I woke up sad

dream

dreamt of your Moses last night
as if in a deep sleep
you just let him go
he went the opposite direction
down the stream
smiling amidst the sparkling water
that was taking him away
they found him by the bank
and loved him
but I spied and watched him grow
your Moses was brilliant
you would have been proud

fleeting

by the time he pulled the bird
out of his pocket
its damp wings were the color
of melted butter
it was gasping, pecking ferociously
its canary spirit flapping away

after the time he pulled the canary
out of his pocket
the soldiers wept for
the absence of its sound
reason lacking, trying unavailingly
to keep any happiness from floating away

finite

may God bless all the delicate
creatures that will hold your hand
in their impossibly strong grips
and shed glimmering tears
as you admit you’re afraid to
take your last breath
place their long sweet-smelling
manes over your eyes
so that your last thoughts
are of beauty before you die

colère

poor little baby, you bit your tongue

chewing on all that hatred.

was it horrible? did it cut your throat

when you swallowed it down?

did it try to climb its way back up, and

make you run to the bathroom to find

an empty stall?

poor little baby, you broke your finger

pointing it and flipping them the bird

that was carrying all that ill will.

did it break free and flee?

perhaps fly away somewhere quiet to

rest on a snow-capped tree or

a glowing, warm palm.

poor little baby, you failed the test.

dare

you were swimming with the sharks, Love

did you feel them when you were up above?

you minded your business and they minded theirs

lifeguard left his station but you didn’t care

you were swimming with the sharks, Love

how did all that danger feel?

not much different than your everyday?

you really are so brave, Love

season

his notes throw my brain
back to winter, cold and ice
he’s so good at that
everything freezing, everything leaving
rushing past me
going to places — I want to go
his keys spark my sleepy memories
my eyes explode with
those open fields and dying trees
my heart melts with burnt clouds
and those magical fading leaves