every time i look in the mirror, for years and years now, since i was a child, since before everything and ever since, i find myself asking,
“and who are you there? who the hell are you?”
as it dawns upon you
as it dawns upon you
the day is gray and
the wind restless and
you’ve disappeared
behind this cloud
of cigarette smoke
and these scars
unattractive beast
you find yourself as an unattractive beast whose lips drag along the dust picking up flecks of skin someone long since gone has left over scratches the legs of a chair make when it is suddenly pitched backwards beneath your spine. nothing has ever been more this figment of your imagination other than the utter words you used as wounds traced over your belly where you wish there were scars sealing the fat you cannot get to. and when your ears pierced widen to the sound of your unease, the hair choking your chest prickles stray yearnings like the night you coughed up more than what you meant to say.
regret and sorry are such useless twins.
my son racks
my son racks the night clear through an ache my father left abandoned in me
pretty blue pieces
tipping over the blue vase your mouth spilled broken flowers with spit petals and thorns shot through my neck hearing it again shatters my hands scattered and swollen seeking the oily purchase of your skin slick with rage but petals in my mouth spill out broken teeth as thorns wash my eyes clean to the watermark on the floor where my hands split open a wooden table like flowers still listening to the crash of your mouth
i plunge my face deep and breathe in all the sharp pretty blue pieces to change everything
three card monte
follow the queen, find the lady
the con man swaps hand over hand
atop a piece of cardboard & a milk crate
shows you where she might be
follow the lady, can you find her
all it takes is a dollar
& the belief that all three cards are only
bent from the abuse of the shuffle
& not the guile
of an expert hand
all this madness over
an indiscretion
of place of who you were in place of
incalculable puzzle
i thought it a puzzle, a question of arrangement and perspective
but then i took scissors to the pieces to make them fit
the edges were further maligned and displaced
and when forcing them proved an incalculable equation
i took to thread and needle, stitching my eyes open
eyebrows raised and puzzled that my hand no longer shook
licking each crevice with a severed tongue
locking in place
the grizzled man stood up slowly, as if testing the bones before locking the hips in place. “boy, it’s over now. time to start again.”
“what if,” the younger man sat, legs bent close to his chest, arms resting on his knees, “what if i can’t. what if i don’t know how.”
“heh,” the grizzled man dug out paper from one shirt pocket, tobacco from another, “you know how.” he rolled the paper between callused fingers, wet the edge with deft severity. “you’ve always known how to begin things.”
the younger man closed his eyes and shuddered in the sun.
return to dreaming
how to go back to the dream, dreaming, as if it never happened, no wounds to heal, no mountain to climb, no bare feet cut along the rocks, no fingernails cracked desperate, where i was this rock, this point of arrival, this steady pace of the sun, a sure gravity of place, instead of this alien shifting sand, this thing i do not recognize in the mirror, this stain, i touch the glass and i feel nothing, i touch myself and i feel nothing, i touch her and all i feel is pain, i touch my children and i feel the skin of a heart that should still be beating, i touch the walls and i feel the regret of no longer belonging to any of it.
there’s a place where everything goes
there’s a place for sadness, the sharp exhale through dry lips
& a place for happiness, the gap between the heart and the ribs
there’s a place for wounds, the bleeding along opened skin
& a place for scars, the ridge of mangled flesh having healed
there’s a place for rage, the tearing of bark from a tree in winter
& a place for anger, the demand for splinters stuck in a fist
there’s a place for desire, the heat of fingers held tight
& there’s a place for forgiveness, the trail of a stained tear
there’s a place for remembering, the floor of a windowless room
& there’s a place for forgetting, the edges of teeth being broken