Saturday, April 8, 2017

Melting



Tea cups best like this,

Five or six and snowing.

Mornings hold, afternoons sneak the sun past the nurses.

By the time dark gorges the pavement steam, a nestle of cars can't keep melting away.


Always, this dream—

A bedroom at the end of my last life.

Brown-walled, wallpapered ceilings.

Two hungry mouths, one loaded mind. Fists making adequate use of time.

A phone hidden in a coat hidden in the sickness of a season splintered.

Dawn rooftops hit the windows, yellow rolls into rooms where I sit, the five-years-ago me.

She's a lurching bird misery-wrapped, all bones,

The flavor of forever--surrendered.

All four thousand square-feet of her nest squashed in the limits

Of pain that never goes away fast enough

Before the melting.


I know I had to go,

But in my dreams the tears are never too salty and I never leave. It's not bad enough. I can stay.

The laughter down the hallway makes the medicine.

An arm flings over the wall. Mother, mother.

Snow falls in Texas but never stays but I could have

Had my dreams never melted away.
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