My uncle left
his body for awhile,
he took on the
body
of a hungry man
and a traveller,
he became gaunt
and sold all of his
jewelry,
all that gold
that once made him
a king bloated with knowledge,
when my uncle left
he left for Arm & Hammer,
a few dreams
and the oncoming
swift of nightmares,
coming to the house in the morning
in his new body:
a bird
to grab in its
feet
all of its belongings.

The love
that fed him,
slept on its side,
and there are some things
worse
than death.

One day he flew away
like he would never return,
one day I loved him
and the next day
the sun rose with hate.

Now he sits at the table,
eating the food,
as God gives him a lapdance
or a beer,
or the love of his family,
everything returned,
everything sold
seemingly saved,
but in some ways
the hatred remains
as a reminder
that love will always
be stronger
than pain.