Icicles hanging from the ceiling
My breath coming out in clouds
Tap my back pocket one last time
Map tucked safely away

I made you a *** of tea
Are you cold?
Are you well?
Hush now, I’m here with you

Frost on all the walls
I’ll be back tomorrow, my love
Around dinnertime

When I was a child, my mother would read me
Bedtime stories.
I was transported to fantastic realms,
Populated by goblins and breadcrumbs,
Little bears in cardboard rocketships,
Magic and mystery and adventure.
Never mind that she stood idly by
While my father beat me to hell and back.
This escape was enough.
This scarlet train ride to far off lands.
I would pull the covers up to my chin and listen.
Until I realized this, too, was abuse.
My nightly escape was a lie.
I was lead to believe that,
After one horrible experience,
Being, say, kidnapped by Baba Yaga
Or lost in a labyrinth with a minotaur,
That I would be free in loving arms
And I would live happily ever after.
But I would dream about escape,
Dream about wings that would not melt
Or princesses in castles with magic powers.
And I would wake up in my bed.
Still bruised.
Still afraid of the man who lived in my house.
Still a broken child.
(all the king’s horses and all the king’s men.)

I dreamt about home,
You had bought a new, water saving,
Washing machine,
Tide detergent sitting on the shelf made
By stacking the washer and dryer.
You still had your empty picture frames hanging
Above our bed.
Grilled garlic chicken with lime juice,
Watching British programming
And holding each other tight.
I wanna go home.
So I run and I run and I knock over anyone who offers to take me in,
I rob them blind, take everything I can fit in my pockets,
And I split on to the next mark,
Jacket jingling with my collections,
Maybe I can buy my way back in.
We took turns slamming the door on each other.
I remember when I first moved in,
I was drunk for 3 weeks straight,
Get up at 8 a.m. and pour a screwdriver
I only told you I loved you when I'd been drinking.
I love you
I love you.
Let me come home.

The ruler comes down from on high
Dragging himself along the earth
Insulation going up like confetti
Take cover, take shelter

Ice the size of softballs
Comes streaking from the sky
There’s nowhere left to run
Huddled under the bridge

And then a sound like rushing water
Feels like a freight train overhead
We weep and cry and gnash our teeth
As the trumpet blares

Drove down Telephone Road
Where it crosses the highway
Sandcastles washed out to sea
Old bills put through the shredder

The boy behind the counter laughs nervously
And he knows
Early morning rain
Oil rising to the surface of the asphalt
A crash from the kitchen
And someone yelling for the police
Robbery, robbery!
Everyone is looking at me
My face is flushed and my neck is hot
I forgot my supplies in the trunk of my car
Burlap sack, rough and faded
My shoes are sticking to the floor
It’s so hot in here
Beads of sweat roll down my arms
I might be sick on the linoleum
I want to go home.

She kissed me like
She
Kept
Dropping
Her
Keys.
She looked like paper,
But smelled of smoke
And had maps
Tattooed down her arms.
They were her roads,
Not meant for others.
I waited on the porch,
Knowing all paths led back,
Eventually.