anatomy.

body of symmetry
save the abduction of an arm
literally right no longer
like left
scarred skin
sliced tissue
but more invisible wounds
than not
and the wrist bone
is certainly
not connected
to the heart
bones.

crushed innocence.

a thousand folded cranes
he smashed them with his
breath
each one i had folded
the last thing he ever touched.

trust.

if i were a child
i would ask you

to keep me safe
to hold me tight, if only for a minute
to protect me from all [evil]
to brush my hair away from my face
to make me look you in the eyes
to do things [he] never did
to let me cry and grieve

but i am not a child
so i can only hope
you continue.

mine is a story
no one will remember

no heroic acts
no museum shows
no pulitzer prize

a story with
no climactic ending

only silence and red envelopes.

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give up.

unspoken words stick
in voicebox
lungs
trachea
suffocating wishes

leaving only silence
in their place.

snapping red rubberband
welts pale hands capable
of mass destruction.

i wouldn't want
to wear a dress
in the dirt.

etch.

all we have
to do is wait

                 (wait while
                 acid bites
                 copper)

etching metal memory in
slippery seafoam liquid.

broach.

o___
ooooover river
the mississippi
twice
in two [or so] days
wrought
water chops both here
and there

i am
            wondering
            if i'll catch it

on the flip side, tell me
[if i stay here]
bedtime stories
please
take a long
            long time

                     to finish.

splinterself.

bound
wrists
to wooden chair
eyes screaming
now you've done it

while she sits
silent
ly
waiting

until he stops

leaving pine slivers
splinter
ing
her
unusable places.

shoulderarmupperandlower
wristrightonenevertheleft
topsoffingers
belowandabovetheknuckles
usedtobefingertips
anklearoundthebone
belowtenderskin
lowerlegrightsideagain

[complicated].

elucidated truth.

last night
in a quiet slumber
i dreamt of you

sitting
on the edge of my bed
holding one of my hands in yours

and with the other
you brushed my hair
away from my eyes

a silent dream
other than the words
you whispered in my ear.

my grandfather used to say
see you soon
no wave
no goodbye
just see you soon

and isn't that the truth.

the truck driver and
the devil were the same,
in dreams and out.
close cousins, anyway
far traveled
rage-filled,
manipulative.

county grounds.

high above a city of lights
between twisted trees you spoke
of an angry child
who wasn't
who should've been
angrier
and tried
but couldn't be
through knotted trees
overgrown brush and the
shells of milkweed
we sat staring
at the dark, overcast world
and i wondered if i
would see the sun
in the morning.

flux.

floorboards bulge
the cracks between them
run red with a stream of
artifacts from an ancient civilization
and this river tries
to drown you as the banks
of clay eminate
the scent of iron and dried blood
and just before your head
goes completely under
the turbid, nearly-black water
he kicks sand in your eyes
blinding you
refusing to let you
ever see the shore
again.

winter. part II.

we tippy-toe on beds of ice
slowing down
way down
without words because
i lost mine
deep inside somewhere
in my guts
intestines
a place that never sees
the light of day
slipping
on frozen water
our breath makes
tiny clouds in front of us
we walk
and i think
of the innocent
childhood awe of flying
as water drips down buildings
from the sun's assult on icicles
and you reach out your hand
to stop the flow
to finally warm the water.

wondering
waiting
considering

the choices.

habit.

dry as desert sand
chapped lips licked
by cold winter wind
chewed by nervousness and fear
over time
until the blood runs.

sinking heart.

called my grandma
this morning
to talk
about the weather, and
about birds and the onset of spring
about my uncle
who could die soon
and my aunt who snorts cocaine

to talk
about the house
she's giving up
after forty some years
and the memories
that will go with it
when it sells.

running errands.

through falling rain
windshield spattered
with drops
like beads of glass
we sit silent and staring
at slick pavement
taillights glowing
their cherry red life
while white light overpowers us
from the other side
of somewhere.

this isn't a game
but [he] is winning.