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is making him bubble. The strain
in the hazel rounds, the pain he can’t put
down. The pitch of his voice is uneven. They

stuck their line in like floss between his
cracks and made a cross. I don’t
ask. I'm restless in this. Through the cloth -
a kiss.

At least the hugs haven’t a barrier. And I go for it.
Pray I'm no carrier! But after two months I can't  
contain. And seeing him light up through

the black is plain. He broke out of his cage this day
I did call. He asked to go home. We can't wait
for the fall.
with the big grin
looking like a crescent moon
hanging on its side
like a piece of apple pie?

Will he be as I remember him
with the octopus’ arms
that wrap around me eight strokes?

Will he be as I remember him
laughing until his head falls
off and lands on my feet
making us both look like hyenas?

Will he be as I remember him
talking up a storm cloud
of lightning, blinding us both
with bolts of electric energy in this
afternoon heat?

Will he be as I remember him
my first-born son, taken
from me so young, and then taken from
me again?

He will be remembered
as green as the meadows
sweet as the ripen apple on the tree
fury as the squirrels
chasing the lot
fondly
some happiness with me
as I left. But it was sealed inside
so tight it did not seep out even
a crack of light.

I was hoping to take
some warmth from the day. It was
a hotter than a lava spring
as early as this morning. I stood
cold. I can not hold it. It melted in my hand –
yesterday’s plan.

I was hoping to take
a memory created from
a man as he looks glossy-eyed
with a big tooth smile smeared on
his face like jelly from a donut with
the runs.

All I took was myself
like the rocking chair that dottles
as ashes in a pipe. And sits like a lump
that was smoked once. But hasn’t a spark
to ignite.
like the colors are in style
black is the night
blue is the sky in the day
whether the colors are bright
or grey
she’ll wear them
wear them loudly
pierced with pitchfork
bleeding purple
runs beside
the road
with laced sneakers
and laced moonlight
inscriptions clouding his
lavender head as clouds
do the sky
he blends in with
this town
he looks straight
not down

he runs into August
as dust
picked up
by the vacuum
and he’ll eat up September
with a spoon
it’s not June now
July dies after thirty-one days
he can pack up his memories
or pack the kayaks
he can stand awake –
or snooze
I bounce back
when you push on me
I go higher
as you press
like a jay on a wire
that’s flown
from home

You can’t cut steel
I’m wrapped around myself
over and again
as a snake coiled in the grass
You can’t see
curled around big feet
as I pass underneath
Till I strike –
jump to life
as the morning dew
clinging its clear droplet
onto a blade of grass.
As it runs down the blade
so, it fades into the earth.

I’m close to you
as my mask
covering nose and lips
sniffles and smiles
teeth as pearls
hidden in swirls of sand

I’m close to you
as pixels
cramming together
for the picture
of the man
that stares into the screen
I’ve only seen above
the keys
or through the door

I cannot hold him
with arms
I hold him with stares
I cannot touch him
with hands
I touch him with care
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