August 17, 2018 9:25PM

Peace is the long length of a zipper
Unfurling in slow motion, yeah,
You remember that, you remember

And peace is the sawdust stealing
Sound from the periodic
Voice of your grandmother spilling
Gravel over all that memory of
Some memory of time.

Until it’s not there.

I broke my door with your
I tailored the weather to blow your
Flesh forward, my hands in that
Stranded hair wreathed in violent

I’m sorry.

With all that bled regret,
I held your head close to the floor,
I tangled my teeth into the memory of those
Lips, those fingers, I licked all the truth from the
Salt, I parodied your last breath with a
Soulful lung, a sliding toothful pain.

Ah so much pantomime, pretending in
Two-thirds time as the beat scores
Five-ninths down.
I tendered the scenery as our memory slides
Away from the movers moving your scent from
Hallway to bedroom,
To floor,
To humming lamplight sliding
Caricature of what we’re going to
Remember 10 years from now.

And soon, this will all be a Serengeti tune,
Hot in the bar-stool-pentamic tongue of
Something warm, something…

I hope some day you wave down the driver and
Not walk home,
I hope some day the Fruit kisses
Your Fruit
And you forget that
Your Grandmother’s lisp is only just becoming a waver
And all those forgotten names are becoming not just
Wisps but

Caricature of a Caricacture of
All those wrinkled limbs, we helped you onto that
Ambulance and loved those last
Deep-souled-lantern breaths…..

Doors were closed.

So much sky in the sky, those clouds are your clouds,
And on the death-bed of your youth you will
T’was such a story that your movie
Will never be made.

Tis’ ok.