had a dream of my father last night
sitting across from me in a ferry
going which way, I have no clue
he faced the water, he wouldn’t look at me
he seemed mad at me, like he knew
I wanted to ask him
about the time he wanted to die
but I remained silent
the winds played with his thick mane
the low gray clouds behind him
ushered him back
I woke up sad
what airs you try to possess
as the dragonflies try their best
to provide proficient company
as you carefully trim the trees
to look like those jewels
that rest upon your breast
it appeared that there were
dead cranes on the side of the road
their graceful necks draped over the curb,
beautiful yet useless
much like our forgotten conversations
it all makes sense now, since I no
longer recognize my
laugh from the photographs
thrown all over the floor
tiptoe around them like a
doomed choreographed ballet,
beautiful yet useless
little white buildings on my right, as I
make the ground ache when I walk.
earth hard, unlike weeks before when
life sprouted up towards the sun.
barren forked trees on my left,
as pale gray clouds leave me
breathless for a moment cause
the air hurts to breathe.
silence, as I go past the frozen mess
that was left before me as I begin my
waiting for the world to act alive again.
those red butterflies take me back to the time when
those annoying crickets lulled me to sleep
dreamt I was barefoot on the gravel
running to that abandoned church
where those lost souls would be baptized
stood up high to pretend to speak
but I knew I wasn’t worthy
running back to the little, green house
the gravel biting at my soles
I whimpered and looked back –
you ran and didn’t even feel the rocks
you came laughing back,
your feet untouched
The Tape House 