Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

My bones were vibrating,
Grinding the bite out of my teeth.
My arms wrapped around my stomach
Tighter than a boa constrictor
Trying to stop the shaking
The vibrating
Originating in the pit of my hopeless stomach.
The churning black hole that could erupt at one twitch.
I ****** at the side of my finger,
Avoiding the nausia,
And avoiding the acid nipping at my tonsils.
Chewing away at my bouncing teeth.
My hunched back leaned against the brick,
Spine curved into my shoulders
Enclosing my frozen chest,
My nose threatening to fall off.
And at that time
I wanted to be anywhere
Just to
Get away
From
There.

My son is
led from my house
in handcuffs,
as I catch a glimpse
of myself in the
hall mirror.

At least my hair
looks good today,
I think to myself,

The window of my
front door frames
his long, gawky body
and I think that
it’s almost like
a picture I have
hanging on the wall
when he was three,
except for the handcuffs and
the police car and the bitter
look in his eyes.

Could this be the same
kid who loved me so much.

I pace the hallway,
looking at my toenails
painted blush pink in my sandals,

Summertime is usually better than
this I tell myself
How was your summer?
Oh fine, it was warm, and my son was arrested
for selling drugs.

The air conditioner kicks on
as the hot air from the open screen door
flows through, and I think
of my electric bill and how much
it will cost,
when I’ve already paid way too much.

feel the rush of the wind against your cheeks,
and taste the arid air, suddenly interrupted by torrential downpours.

warm. wet. moist.

scintillating dewdrops in the midst of gray skies and hot weather.
fog masking our view.
coquette: her skin plump and soft, like peaches.
thin fabrics tinged with the slightest traces of sweat.
and the sweetest scent of summer.

The iron monster tempts her closer
with a rusty soul
glistening bolts
and a wide-mouthed brim
of steel and secrets.

Her eyelids
fall to her lashes
anticipating the dreams that
weigh heavy on her heart
of underwater cities and
of things that were meant
to be.

The drop isn’t much too far
but she hangs onto its copper body
and for once
she is afraid.

But the clouds serve as a witness
and the friendly waves
down below
call to her.

The sun approaches quietly
once more,
just like yesterday
just like she practiced.

Except today
she isn’t interrupted
by unsmiling visitors
Mr. Ford, Mr. Lincoln
and their friends

with their minds pumping
and their engines roaring.

Your father looked down dresses while sitting in church
But he was beat with a belt for not abiding God's words
And while kneeling by your broken bed you cast a wasted curse
That only silenced all the town's pretty song birds
Your cousin touched your lips with fingers soaked in wax
While mom and dad were fighting the kitchen table fell to flames
You cleaned it with an ax
And your cousin left in shame
Mother took you to the carnival to help you to forget
She dragged you by the wrist and let a clown drink your thoughts
On your hands you did sit
And they used your dreams as their props
You yelled at the ***** and ran the dusty road home
You found your father dead but rich
You made his grave of rusted chrome

Tell yourself that you're just tired.
Tell yourself that it was the yawn.
But don't tell that to us. We saw the tear.
We know.

Try not to let us know about it.
About how you still think about her.
About how you stay up until 5 AM, sobbing into your pillow.
We know.

Stop acting so ashamed.
As if it's a tragedy that we know.
We've all been there, many times.
We know.

Tell yourself that she doesn't bother you anymore.
Tell yourself that you don't want to call her this second.
But don't tell that to us. You're lying.
We know.

Don't tell us you were listening to Star Cecil again.
Or pull that bull that you just miss your dad.
Tell that to yourself, because you will believe it.
We know.

We've all been there.
I've been there, he's been there, she's been there.
You aren't alone in the least.
We know.

You will find not one soul on this earth,
Who doesn't understand your feelings.
Because practically everyone knows.
We know.

Stop crying into your pillow.
Get out of your room and take a shower.
Forget her, and get on with your life.
We did.