let me row you out, darling girl
climb in, put your feet together
this is my father’s boat
and his father’s boat before him
these waves have rocked them
before cradling us, so do not worry
these waves will not bring us harm
tug on the ropes as i grab the oars
and sweep the gentle blue
and away we go
far away from the city
far away from our woes
past the past, before the daybreak
would you come away with me?

sometimes, i wonder
if you stretch
like a cat, before napping
under daylight
if so, i’d be the floor
normally, i’d be
inconsequential
but in the afternoon
when the sun is high
you’d choose a good spot
we would touch
then i would be
special

i know you’re asleep
but i hope you can tell
i have been praying
that you dream only
of good dreams,
that you live well
in a life
you’ve barely begun
to live

i fall into it
right as i crawl myself out of it
compared to me, Sisyphus's struggle is nothing

the heavy love i carry?
well, it keeps tumbling back to me
like a rock out to crush and ****

i know, i know
i am a sentimental fool
but where should i put the weight of everything?

i can't give it to you
but i can't let it stay with me
so i guess i'll be pushing it up the hill

i lie on the surface
it is cold, it is lonely
the words in my mouth
taste like wine
i must have been a
poet who died at sea
i lie on the surface
it is warm, there you are
the words in my mouth
taste like water
do not mourn for me
when i sink

there is a pocket universe
in between our houses
as sturdy as a narra tree
there, girls get to be girls
and friends never go
there, a boyfriend isn’t
a death sentence
there, our garden is full
of begonias, chrysanthemums
there, we water them
and they grow

i think of her
the same way people think of
hunger balanced on their tongue
or when the thunder
perfectly timed, cracks open the sky
the soft vowels and slight curve
as i dust her off the shelf
put her back, limbs attached
stare at her forlornly without a care
i think of her
when the thought in my mind becomes heavy
as heavy as a lie
but there is nothing here
but space and backspace
the death of another poem