enough, the ones I adore but can’t ever close. I’m drawn
again to the frozen-food aisle: is this where I meet my new self,
shuddering inside a box of waffles? Hey, a closeout on ice cream,
maybe I’ll pile up on rocky road? I won’t mince anything:
not the breakup, not hours before, each minute snapping shut
on my wrist. I won’t dwell on what I said, only the words
I failed to be. A watermelon, a half-off watermelon, it’s over:
because I love the seeds, I spit them out.
Clock hands inch toward, then away from the sky.
Tables drag their claw feet on the carpet.
Even the mind holds weight, a center of gravity:
somewhere to reach for, to dig & dig deeper.
Until mounds of red earth spring up.
Until the hole takes on groundwater, echoing a well.
Soon a fresh city emerges, a system of pipes, a boatload
of sex shops, people starting over.
They swipe onto trains. They flood parks with kids.
They strip down a kitchen, put in an island.
its frame to the dark
its pillows like a surprise
rock jetty & this time
let’s leave the TV on
to watch us yes
let’s feel its eyes
burning up your back
first then mine &
we’re a knot pulled in
all directions so nothing
can escape not even
our minds reaching
up & up for the ceiling
where hot air lightly
presses its face
A: I fall hard for the perimeter of a girl. Drag your mouse over the picture
to show depth. Deflect the age question with a swift turn. Bury the ex
in run-on sentences. Say you’d like more little ones than you’d like. Then
sprinkle white lies over coffee. Lock arms around an iceberg wedge with
light dressing. If you grow apart, be the bigger person by an inch.
I tapped your phone says the cloud
Take a hike says the tree
(Mountains & a moth weigh thoughts of each other)
(The sky runs all the way around earth)
Give back my dog says the cloud
Go chew his toys says the tree
(TV pressures the world into diamonds)
(Out of nowhere, the sky spits out a breeze)
Let’s fly says the tree
Into what says the cloud