ago.

the day begins as we end / our dreams
sprawled out on sweaty sheets,
letting go of fistfuls of memories
like scraps of coloured paper
flung off a rooftop,
a thin line
between those things
we celebrate
and those
we grieve.

it takes a phone call
answered or not
our palms face up
or buried in our laps
wrapping ribbons
of our past lives
around our present together,
our palms are trying
to tell us something.

this day is running around
itself / a premonition

glowing like a crimson-lit room
from across an alley, maybe
I was just there or years before
could have flicked on the lights
slipped two-by-two
through a train turnstile
or tossed a cigarette off
a roof,
shoulders shifting
towards or away from someone.

the day ends as we begin
in parallel REMs
asks itself
a shared apartment
or am I him, bubbling up
on a patio in the back
or getting caught in conversations
never spoken out loud,
he texts she texts
LOL whatevers

nobody laughs anymore,
only chats that they are laughing.

sister let yourself cry.
sister sometimes
it takes three days
to roll away a boulder
pressing down
on your lungs, sometimes it’s okay
to walk away from a tomb. trace
thumbprints on your palms
as if tokens from an apartment
you should have left long ago. place
them gently over veiled eyes. sometimes
we walk in circles but don’t get stepped on,
instead bend the days that begin and end
with the same attempts at poking
a needle through thread

don’t wait
for routine, for things to happen
in threes, or love songs on the radio
that wail like elegies wind sometimes shifts
in more than in four directions—
make it easy. start with Level I processing.
how do you feel about that. 4:53 a.m. leaves
rustle but are not yet morning.
mourning.
the second act is ripe with symbolism but unimportant.
for now
get through the night fumbling for quarters.
there are intruders on the premises, there is
nowhere to hide. you are getting stopped for no reason.
ain't no walk thru Buttercup
Park. collect flashlights,
jars, buttons, broken paperweights. who knows what

we really need from the outside world.
stand on chairs. look at the Big Picture. amazing awaits.
ends, beginnings, they all look the same.
dusk, dawn,
we are all still running. us, apartments, maybe
it means nothing at all. believe in things
because they exist, but don’t forget
to grieve. that's deep. us through them—
see us frantically buried.