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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