—I WISH I HAD A RIVER I COULD SKATE AWAY ON

 

 

12/21/21

 

 

For once, 

let’s be clear:

these are 

fentanyl days, 

every leaf lethal

and jittery, 

roots shook with anxiety, 

an alarm clock clanging 

just below my 

root beer teeth. 

There’s an angry 

wasp burrowing

through my ear.  

A centipede slinking

down my throat. 

A drone climbing 

up my nostril 

all stubborn and 

sticky-legged. 

But it’s winter 

solstice, nonetheless,

my, Love, three more 

minutes of sunshine

stapled into our 

untrusting veins, 

a skein of clouds 

covering our tracks 

so that we couldn’t 

find our way back 

even if we wanted to.