A ghost ship in reefed water
in sleeping, two otters
where you tell me of your white, russian father

and how you'd rather
sail tattered
on friendly water

you reconcile the tatters of the pages
to set alight with the ashes of your cigarette.
you've saved a word in your scrapbook,
torn from the book with his hands
a memory of the chapter.

If,
in wired calls
and tiresome halts,
no breath rings in my throat,
will you know I love you?

If,
in tired days
and soft beds,
the darkness speaks,
will you know I love you?

If,
in heartless nights
and colder mornings,
I grasp for air,
know I love you.

for J

Death, ever present
In the gifts hidden away
Untouched and unwrapped;

crying mothers,
Christmas mourning,
gifts unloved by Sandy Hook.

It was the drawer that housed your love
which caused me to draw breath.
It had been a long time since I had seen that drawer.

I had hoped to never see that drawer again,
to never remind myself of what I left.
But here it was,
beside me as I slept.

I awoke in the morning,
determined.

Tonight.
Tonight I would tear it out.

Lookingbackiseasy
when is wasn't that long ago.

And I usually smile when I do,
for I knew a girl
maybe better than most.
And the cost of
uprooting the sapling,
was you.

But when I return to the old tree,
and glance upon its knots,
I feel better.
Surely, it's not an oak,
but I'm sure it will grow straighter,
and it will be stronger.

I drank to drunk
And walked over to that girl

I knew her from somewheres
We were acquaintances in the most distant aspect
She was kind of ugly

We talked about the weather,
And how Harper was an idiot.
We talked about how she loved her classes,
But she didn't ask me about mine

Eventually, we descended into silence,
And we turned to our phones.
I started a conversation with someone else,
while we were alone,

And it was silent