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
by the time he pulled the bird
out of his pocket
its damp wings were the color
of melted butter
it was gasping, pecking ferociously
its canary spirit flapping away
after the time he pulled the canary
out of his pocket
the soldiers wept for
the absence of its sound
reason lacking, trying unavailingly
to keep any happiness from floating away
we can’t help it
this lot is haunted
with those ancient ghosts
so undecided
they can’t help it
all their fighting
with those old hurts
so resided
when you took my hand you let your fingers
linger on mine a little longer than usual
made me think you were saying goodbye
much like…
when you hold the hand
of a loved one that’s about to die
couldn’t be good news
the way you just left me
watched you walk away
one part of me not caring
the other part wanting you to stay
red chameleon beckoned me out
entranced me with its glossy glaze
matched the blood that fell from me
walked past the broken grill
with the torn black cover
said hello to the baby leaves
and
let the purple tendrils wrap themselves
around my knees
“Stay with us forever!”
I pretend to hear them plead
What beautiful, caring creatures – I think
look up at the black
feel the moisture run down my back
marvel that it’s too humid to even breathe
watch the red chameleon crawl into
a place that I cannot go
we all can’t be Alice that gets to fall
into that glorious rabbit hole
look away – rip my eyes from its gaze
feel the purple tendrils unwrap their grip
from my knees
go back into my crumbling house
ignore their saddened stance
ignore their fictitious pleas
that foam hung around for a long time
this time
tickled my arms
tickled my nose
so I couldn’t breathe
reminded me of that time long ago
I held my breath when I was born
held it so long
that they told him I died
and
when he told that story
it was the only time
I ever saw him cry
this beaten down shell of a woman
the one with the grandest dreams
grew tired of seeing her shadow at the bottom
and
let the violins lead her out of the water
to take a walk under the August sun
unafraid to
journey for days on end without sleep
burdened with thirst but not take a drink
until that duty called her back in
to cut her feet on those flawed, broken shells
back in to swim with the eels
back to the that beaten down shell of a woman
like me
I can’t even enjoy the rain anymore.
I’m always pacing, reaching for the door.
I can’t even savor my meals anymore.
I’m always eating while standing;
hurriedly chewing and choking.
I can’t even stand my showers anymore.
That water hurts my burgundy
striped shoulders.
I can’t even stand to stand anymore.
The gorilla on my back just keeps
getting older.
I can’t even love my words anymore.
They just sit here pretty like,
as a constant reminder that
I just can’t anymore.
that sadness always hits us like a brick
hear its calls louder when there are fewer
distractions to keep our dull minds at bay
sadness that wears on us like blankets
heavy, smelly, making us suffer and smolder
stifling, because it’s always summer here
you say you want to feel it though
swim in it, surrender to it
hear its taunts that test you
so you’ll grow, you always do
you’ll defeat it, and like its own season
it’ll pass
dear crestfallen one,
I’m proud of you, I’m grateful for you
as I try to feel hope instead of this weight of despair
that sadness just seems to hit us so hard
each and every time
as I count down the seconds that I can call you mine
broken
before she peels herself out of bed
counting the minutes before she’s back there
hears the chatter outside her head,
but she ignores it, sighs
looks out the window
wills herself out there…
to go wherever they’re going
wonder what his cigarette tastes like
wonder how that ink feels flush against the skin
blush, have to look away
wonder if that was a sin
surely she’s more than this
to just sit here, sit here and just exist
to take up this space
longing to have the laughter last
waiting for life to return to her face
she wishes herself to be anywhere,
any place else, away from this chaos
but alas, she remains, sighs
broken
before she peels herself out of bed
The Tape House 