I am the only thing I’ve ever feared - the force that moves, the enemy that doesn’t. We are Gemini. No bang, no whimpers just birthdays on either edge of the map. Take a bath in a glacier's fresh melt you'll notice the drowning kills you last.
Silence
in a moment of peace. One minute, one day, one week, same sudsy clawfoot. Not the suffocation of an airless climb. Not the starvation of white pine standing proud, rooting through brackish cracks. Not the dehydration from walking too far and never enough. Hey, let's be friends.
I wrote you a letter
I could never mean.
Trial and error -
the survivalist mantra:
blessed are the meek.
In another era,
closed captioning
open for grief.
Down hung heavier -
cycles more vicious
than obscene.
My rock-tied tantra
sunken beneath
a murky green.
Listen to the elders.
Their beseeching spilt
over dry leather cracks
and smoked spices.
Painful cinnamon
with a hint.
Piscine odored mist
upon the bridge
connecting feelings
to
one so bereft,
so clouded...
Do that thing again.
You cry while I hold you,
like the little baby I am.
Don’t look now,
but
wow,
I’ve never fucked up
so completely.
Oh wait,
yes I have.
Awakening on its journey,
a smell of slight decay.
Leaves sloughing from the canopy.
A zombie losing the safe promise
of summer fruits.
Scurry and hurry to the beat
of a sacred, albeit fatalistic,
yearly routine.
Close to where we started,
but no less sweet to see,
the two by two's; the families;
their long sleeves
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