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Do you remember? I can’t quite recall
The damp drafts of crab
Apple spring that would know me over and over and over and over again
Still sniffing at every wet blooming rag I can get my hands
Are no good to me anymore
Let me lie in July’s garden
With a bowl of fresh wind
A jar of nectar
I want to return to the flowers
Let me come home to the flowers
To loosen every bond
In my body my music
Box brain unwinding itself to silence
And I will know pain no longer
For My Grandmother Margaret
in early summer we weep with our windows wide open
like the train plowing a path with the width of the sound of its horn
through the green air of river valleys
so too do we scream
as love-bonds are ripped apart
perhaps good fortune drifts down upon you
like the fragrance of linden blossoms at high noon
and you’re soft with yourself
resting in a deeper peace on account of your solitude
then this is not for you
this is for those who have found no sanctuary
those walking on with open wounds wondering how much blood they have left to give
wondering whose mouth will be their gauze
their siphon to suck out the poison and spit it to the curb
to those who have felt fused to another only to be ripped apart and left
alone
a ragged hole in the hull of their life
all buoyancy gone
no shelter from the depths
taking on water and sinking to where light does not reach
I can only say it will be ok
you can learn to swim
