I think it was ‘96 or maybe ‘97. Ripping down the hill on an ATV. Salamander skin and bottle rocket shriek. The firecracker pop of teenage sheen. Tobacco barned and creek wetted. Take me to the forests of smoke bomb blue. Hands in the dirt and vivisected. Wrestle me into a knot. Two bodies of flint sparking up the dark. Double wide glances…I’m a garden tub believer. Toss me a towel and dissolve me into the ether.

I watched you cross the veil. Fur-shaking raindrops on the scene. Like a king. Pole leaning and beckoning me into your spell. Boots scuffed from a reckoning. You are a pillar of salt and I am evaporating. We don’t talk. We sing. What an epiphany. Then nothing. Until QDP. All consuming reverie. Head on chest poetry. Legs entwined in the sunrise with Jessie. Doorframe kissing. This is everything. May it all rest in peace.

when the objects hit the wall
when the gin drips from my chin

a mile or more on foot
head against the rim
rain melting skin

darkened windows
shadows of bodies
twisting into oblivion

the bathroom floor with
its blades calling me in

what a night that was
what a summer
to fill me up with your sin
only to exit with serrated chagrin

love is a dangerous thing
when you pull the pin

i’d give anything
to do it all over again

Drag my feet across the space of time. Down the rungs of laddered rooms. So many doors. Most are locked now. Soles pricked by evergreen. Every remembrance, a splinter. Subcutaneous, then deeper. Hypodermic nostalgia. Pin-cushioned and pine-needled. I could pull them out. But relief is not found in extinguishing bushfires. This wooden heart needs to burn free. Poplar, ash, maple…there is a forest within me. Limbs upon limbs draping and dripping and gracing skin that falls away when the weight is too much. And the lightness never seems to last beyond three months. Appendages on oaken tombs. Endless hallways. Sealed doorframes. This winter is eternal, and my timber…a pyre. Lips pressed to polaroid.
I’ve become a jungle of eulogy.
A thicket on fire.

How do I taste when oxidized on your teeth? When the vitriol settles. When the blade hits the floor. When my bones snap. Every cell ballooned by your vinegar. My existence a buffet for you to parade down Main. A clown grin. Like a defiant scepter dashed on the limestone.
Call me home.
You won’t.
Instead, I am stove-topped and reduced like marmalade. Or maybe I’ve been brûléed. But my sugar is my weapon, honey. The crystals on your tongue…what queer poison. Metabolize me as I blossom from your grave. How do I taste?
Your unfortunate mistake.