Sky soft-curling on the lines that matter, pale slicing down,
I find my front door and try the key.
Until I get it right, breath blown out relief powered, quiet though, because they're asleep.

These boys here, speaking branching words meant to welcome. The girlfriend, her name slanting from my reach.

I lock the door. Keys crush, hushed, silent in hand against the dark, the questioning downgoing, the black stairs. Downstairs finally my door is solid, wooden, and the doorknob slivers sound into the empty when I go in.

Still. Sound is my breath, heavy in my throat. Hungering for unquiet lungs.

Light raps at my window and I beg a reprieve, tongue my lip where I cut it coppery and accidental.
If I fall asleep now I dream up lost, loved, longed after, but if I don't sleep I won't find it at all, not here.

So my eyes go ticking down, languid. Light looks on.

The wicker chair on the porch
it’s bent
the leg that is
bent sort of brokenly in
which reminds her of
inversions,
how they turned in
and found darkness,
ineffability,
space.

in two days there will be eight -
no. nine children spilling in
and out
back in again.

maybe they’ll build a snowman
in our backyard, this yard
that is our own we have it
we claim it we want it
it’s ours alright

in two days the snow might have
melted. gone. vanished.
in two days we’ll see
our house full
of people, my people,
not really our people
not really mine

I did leave them.
they were mine, though
back then when there wasn’t any our
no our house our yard our life
family, this one, ours.

back then I yelled
washed dressed
hugged ignored
tugged at

fit into the sum total
fact of ten children,
two parents,
assorted pets,
God.

the sign of our impending decline
is all conjuring conjecture and magic
- tricks, you might say, an illusion

but there's nothing ephemeral here:
the mental composition of goodbyes,
congenial farewells without tears

we could sleep in separate beds
without being tied together,
bound up in proximity

the real magician's play here
is that we still pretend to worry,
weigh and measure and provoke

failing that, this house of cards
comes drifting down, soft-sweet
sad too, the sadness of warning

take caution, take care, look!
see here's a rabbit in my hat,
another 'i love you' in the dark

waiting for a connection that never comes hard
you remember that sleep is just like forgetting
and not even the tenderest hearts keep hurting
once they stop their wide awake circles

morning won't dawn when it comes today
even light has regrets placid and useless
and morning always always comes
muted muting snow grey to abide

here, in this place, in this light,
in this laden love

We the transforming people stay up
   too late on this and that;
   we'll take just one,
   we have a plan
   this is how it works

But then we change our minds
   like we knew we would,
   take the just one more and
   go go go out of the late nights
    and out into the glaring sun

And then again and again,
   wake up and ache,
   our muscles reminding us
   we have to let them
   breathe slow sometimes

Thinned out, when we eat
   we find that we've forgotten how
   and we've forgotten how to feel
   the taste of genius without sweet
    running down our throats and we've
      forgotten how to stay
stagnant, s t i l l.