I do not know
which one of us nestled here first.

All I know is a darkly blanketed sky,
glowing red tongues flickering,
a you and an I, wondering

if your open palms seek solace
in its warmth, or if
your scorched fingers have decided
they've played with too much.

Australia is on fire
and I imagine that I can smell
the burning fur and flesh of
animals I can’t even name.

I’m full of ****.

The truth of me is that
bushfires a world away
are not the reason
I haven’t been dry
a day since Christmas.

No
The World’s Problems
do not keep me awake.

Syrian children with melted skin
won’t ever feel as real as
knowing I have not looked -really looked
into the eyes of my own in months.

The m&m’s the Vraylar drug rep brought are real though
they are as real as the number on the scale.

Which is at least as real as my boss
when she used the words “corrective action.”

Which was at least as real as my ex-husband
who is back to the job of propping up his half of my life.

Which is at least as real as The Boy who is a friend turned stranger
who wrote the poem I stole those words from.

It’s turtles all the way down.

Not aggressive unless provoked
(I am always provoked)

Loves to be loved
(always getting fake love)

Easily hurt but takes
long time to recover
(and I am still recovering...)

fortunate that i have the back exit..

goes out past the farmers house

his emergency light went on

reacting to my moving by

he was already up too

i draw keys a lot

listening to

rocket man

burning…

i googled
what does it feel like to miss someone
but i know