
walk through green darling
toward the wide sky
mother moon calls you
calls you, like she did i

walk through green darling
toward the wide sky
mother moon calls you
calls you, like she did i

i’m thinking of birds
flying into the blue.
sky and waves. not
last night’s takeout
staring at me.
turn the heating
pad even higher.
shift. shift. shift.
watch another murder
mystery. blink.
dozens of prisms
scatter broken light
across striped chairs.
missing another meeting.
dodging another call.
drink more water.
another handful of pills.
swallow the dust.
look out.
four of them.

be a verb, you said—
wedging into a far back booth
bracelets clatter beside
a thick white mug
laptop clings stuck
against wood grain
sugar packets line up
salt and pepper wait
creamer cups pool
dusty red lamps glow

we didn’t speak
after comfort failed
and I thought about
bits of yellow paper
found in the dryer—

sometimes the sky talks
not through weather
or shifts in light
but by peeking through
a crumbling roof

first day of school today
my nephew wore a soft hoodie
he hugged me near white roses
while my old friend sang
and played a blue guitar
i stood here before
and before
but i’m not the same

draw me another day
one where the doctor
didn’t make a mistake
i got the shot
and it worked

maybe it was chimes i heard or someone playing
a glockenspiel. it made me jump. like it always
does. it could be the man coming down
my apartment hallway holding a gun. no,
that was a nightmare. it was a knife at my throat
and i was at work. he told me he was jesus.
i am okay now. it was long ago. but i jump,
again, because what is that sound? it could
be the circus i saw out the car window. remember
when the performers fell? all that blood. no,
that was a nightmare, too. it was my son
being hit by a car. the police knocking.
his face was the blood i saw. his hands.
but what is this sound? wind chimes?
neighbor’s music? my son’s tv? i walk
around the house and light candles
because you never can tell
what’s that sound.

circles became wolf.
wolf tears at hip.
hip turned to shreds.
shreds like glass.
glass bites palm.
palm bleeds to see.

don’t yell at me
i see you just fine
from your perch
maybe i’m tired
or forgetting self
but don’t yell at me