Soft Thursday

Snows comes down in 

clouds (thicker than

the Milky Way)

and I change my

writing style

with the moon

(cycling inter-

stellar bicycle wheels)

making checklists for

the sole purpose of

completing them

for the sole purpose of

keeping it all together

the candles rise and

keep their flames

(respectively) poised

(respectively) without comment

and only I move

moving with my eyes ears

body open

I was never tired

of you darling

(goodnight goodnight)

 

Advertisements

Under the Bed

I wrote this while you were asleep. I wrote this while you were asleep and watching me, baring your teeth like you were the monster and the bed was upside-down. But I knew better. I was the one who folded the sheets, who tucked you in. And so I wrote this, watching your hair fall off of your forehead like a dying old man imagines himself as a child. You were not a child when I wrote this. You were the monster, clawing the bed with dangling arms above the cliff, swinging and struggling to take hold. Continue reading “Under the Bed”

Girl Talk: Drive

Dedicated to my godmother and the train she rides. 

She gets in the car. Breathes. Sits down. She’s done this before. The night is unraveling above her, a thick wool blanket, and bright lights beam out from the moth-eaten holes. Stars are mistakes. She takes the keys out of her pocket and they stab her hand softly, fighting to the end. They aren’t afraid of her; it’s the other way ‘round, the other way home. She fiddles around with them, holds the ring and swings the loop around so she can hear the wrangling. The keys and keychains crackle together like lightning. Destiny. She looks at the golden key for a moment, letting it shine under the car light, and quickly jams it into the ignition. She turns. Roar, says the car. Roar roar roar. She can’t talk like that.

Continue reading “Girl Talk: Drive”