Voice Mail
I saved a voice message from you
I replay it, afraid to forget our history
and so I can hear you say you love me
when I forget to love myself
the recording is accurate, nearly
exhaustion through cracked syllables
and the thin hopeless whine
spins like a record, quietly
I used to pretend that tomorrow you would call
as your words each time tell me
but the string of those tomorrows hangs
in the back of my memory
and memories can’t make phone calls
no matter how much they miss you
Feral
Fetishize the tangled side
distilled from a distance
but too feral to love
Dilated to dark days
playing on anyway
run it to gravel and push
Let there be some levity
lost in the lush
a pull or crush
Of softness
or solace
rubbed to the bone
Wrapped to protect
please stay away
there’s nothing left
— —
Greenery
Things come clear
and nothing is soft
time loses its poetry
rhythm lost
harsh lines and edges
of character and intention
comes through
grey areas
faded colors
rinsed and repeated
until thats how
how it goes
how It is now
easier to see
trees in flat fields
when options seem sparse
You take what’s been given
Did the reader close the book
walk away
leaving unfinished business
for some unknown time
or is this a terrible
choose your own adventure
with the happy endings
ripped from the spine
Perhaps just a pause
dog eared
to be picked up
continued again
will memory serve
will the arc make sense
or is it changed
never new again
My skin is too thin to stomach it
you know, anything
Wind, rain, snow
hands, mouths, blows
Tears
micro and macro
superficial
deep
Never terminal
not yet anyway
Empire
I couldn’t separate you from the city
worn in and beautiful
cramped and labored
but there’s the charm
in airport terminals and cab rides to your door
I should be so lucky
to wake up in the shadow of the empire state
to fall in your step
past trash heaps and concrete
reflected in subway car windows
curled into you
It fits like a glove I can’t afford to wear
the alcohol on our breath
spins me unsteady
it’s never as good off paper
can I own needs
or will yours always be louder
Soak
Push my fingers along the water
to feel the breaking of its skin
wherein and land meets
It’s hard to mourn
the living
harder to hold
the dead
Over and over
pulling
over and over
There is no clear answer
no great lesson
beyond the ripples
we send
by our own hands
Eventually, the ties break
the sound echoes
and little we can do
once the water turns tepid
