Monday, July 24, 2017



Mother you have
Planted me
In the shadow of
Your garden
Our biographies mix
In the soil
The hairy roots
Around us grow clammy
One wrapping its talon
Around my neck
While your eyes
Become two full moons
Excited and curious
To see how I’ll react
Or if I even can


You and the Moon

You like the moon so much
Because it can’t touch
Because it is out of reach
Looking surreal when she’s full
Surreal when she’s gone bulimic
You ask her for favors the way
Some people bargain with God when
They pray and are a little self-focused
You ask the moon how it felt to have
Those men bouncing around on her recently
Playing golf or exploring
You ask her what comes after age nine
Because time isn’t reliable
Nothing is
You ask the moon if it’s okay to
Hate a person
Someone who’s supposed to be
Close to you
Say someone blood-related
Say a parent
And after all that back and forth
And after making up answers to
Your own questions
You trudge back home through the night
Wishing the ground would split open
And suck you down


What If I Am Wrong

What if I am all wrong
If I misremembered
Tried to revise history for my benefit somehow
My wife kind of thinks so
Or at least she believes I’m prone to exaggeration
I’ve heard hypnotists can convince
Their patients of almost anything
Maybe those screams were merely laughter
Giggles signaling happiness
Perhaps those bruises were sunsets
Hoping someone would appreciate them

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