It's like we're back to back
where I cannot see your
face
and I almost can't remember
what it
looks
like

and I reach behind to touch you but my arms don't
bend that way

It's like we're back to back but
you're also fading
into
grey.

I've been filling up
my glass
night and night
again

peering in the opening
my lips pressed to
the rim

I've been swallowing
my pain again
frothing in my
beer

I've been filling up
my glass
too tall and
lying through my
cheers.

Fresh white paint
And I.V. drips
And flat
Flourescent lights
The medicinal
Smell of
"Not quite yet"
And "i thought we still had time."
These are the
Thoughts that
Come to me -
   That winter when you died
You're somewhere
  In the needles
    Of December,
      Spruce and Pine

When I was a child
and I rode in the car
at night in the light of
the moon

I'd watch out the glass
at the fir trees we passed
where the deep woods whispered
and crooned

Abyssal black and
spattered in stars
the sky was suffused
in night

It's one moment where
I was never scared
but reassured by the dark's
gift of light.

I don't know why I'm telling you
this,
but I've grown to
be fine.
And I've found a way to live in
fallen snow.

to let the white, bone cold
of winter light
a fire in me.

I'm painting myself in drops of
spearmint,
writhing &
gladly making
pictures fit for
nightfall and snow
angels made
of stars

Way back when
when the porch was
caving in
and the creek had never been
so empty,

I went back
to the rabbit
hutch
kicked the sick-sweet bags, the
sticky cans of
Pepsi

Way back when,
when our love was
growing thin
and your hand could no longer
be steady,

I went back
to the edge of
Deer Creek -
& threw hay
like poverty
confetti.