there's an enemy sleeping in the skin
that i've been wasting in
there's a day or two a week i don't
get anything done but thinking
about
when you dialed into nothingness
you knew it all along;
you can't know anything at all.
some days feel like a revelation, but
you knew it all along;
you can't know anything at all.

you talked to pete and kate,
you talked to mom, to god,
and even alice in the backseat
but you left words pinned to the scene just for me
croaking about the summer the world sprang from my lungs
still yourself with love and
guilt and void
i am the holiest of unholy thoughts
gravitating toward your tongue.

banished from your front door
and there's no one standing guard
around your bed
while they're disorganizing drawers
like it was folly how it was before
i see your embrace unfurl in the lazy lawn
i'm stuck behind.

weeding retrospection out and shying away
leave no room for unpleasantries.
memories fog with care and
abbreviate
stow away the wilt and pain
and the grass that lies above you is
sleeping through the rain.

something scattered in you grows
and weaves and blooms through tattered clothes
i thought i saw or perhaps mistook
your shadow flying on the sidewalk
but maybe i'll just read you bend
gently through a blade of grass
and that's just fine too,
stay yourself and send me something green
here every summer, again and again.