Your nest in my heart
Is made of teal strands and meds.
We’re newborn fathers.

Two words in Spanish:
Mi madre. And with you, our
Wholesome home begins.

Goldilocks drops in,
Fills us with too much porridge.
West coast warms his core.

Fold away your wings.
We eagerly await your
Flight into our arms.

They say the apple doesn’t fall from the tree,
And that is why my center is rotted with worms
Instead of being baked into a humble pie.

We shame roses
For their thorns
Despite our knowledge
That their purpose
Is to protect blossoms
From uncaring hands.

You were in the shower when the phone call came.
Your breakfast was in the toilet by the time it rang again.
You don’t answer. For days, weeks, and then it is
The three month mark, and she isn’t back, and you aren’t awake.

When you leave the house, and pick up the phone,
Someone says “I’m sorry for your loss.”
You say, “I’m sorry it wasn’t me.”
The words don’t come out right. The words don’t come out at all.

Every time you see a hummingbird,
You wonder if reincarnation is real,
And if she’d feel better as a bird, or a bug,
Rather than a bedridden set of destroyed lungs.

Look, all I’m saying is
I’m the cracks in the sidewalk
That they warn you not to step on
Or you’ll cause chain reactions that
Cause you to question whether or not
Blood is thicker than water. Because maybe,
You want her dead. Not in the long run
But in an instant where she drags you
Across the room by your hair, and
You break the ******* mirror
Because it shows you who
You’re not. All I’m saying
Is stand up and seep up the
Remnants of how much your daddy
Loved you, once upon a time, crumble
His cards and flowers made of prison cigarette
Packs and he said “I always thought of you,”
Meaning you’re a jailbird tattoo artist’s
Well-meaning card that he swapped
Cafeteria lunch cards for. And yes,
You were hurt, but the teacher
Tells you hold your tongue
And your bladder, even
Your first ever girlfriend says
That it’s not as bad as you make it,
When you realize you can’t love her,
You can’t love anyone you run so fast
Your legs squeak, you never want to run
Back to a house where they killed your dog
And your dreams and strung them up like laundry
On hot days. Eventually someone uses the “A”
Word, the “V” word, “victim” of “abuse” and it
Only hurts because deep in your swollen,
****** up core you know that it is true.

You act like you
Expect a cue:
Like we’re supporting actors
And your existence relies on mine
Or even worse MY existence relies on YOURS,
But I don’t need players who can’t hold their weight on a stage
With more than two spotlights.
You act like you need clues
When it’s up to you to get a ******* clue,
When it isn’t pink or blue you’re stuttering between
Green and yellow and I want to ***** all those colors that make you
“Uncomfortable” or “worried” for a future that I doubt you belong in,
Because let’s be real: It wasn’t a *******
Baby bib color that made me dread
My genitalia.

1
I’m faltering at the edge of a shaky trigger finger.
When I die, please burn me to a crisp
(If I haven’t done so already, and if my brain is still intact)
And bury the remnants of a sad little boy
Under every house that ever hurt my fingers
With its splinters and creaky floors;
Its fathers with big boots, and scratchy stubble.

#2
Now I am stardust, and you are foam.
On the other side, you kiss me,
Pretend it would have meant
Something, sometime.

#3**
P.S. I am never owning up to
Owing you up to a hundred bucks
Because you didn’t believe in me hard enough
And I lost my wings. My only regret in dying is not
Yelling “*******” loud enough to melt your doubts off.