and you’re sitting at the kitchen table
when it hits you:
clouds are shitty metaphors,
and the nights spent arguing over
the best ways to set
flashlights on fire were never
really wasted;
to the angel boy made of sugar
and spice and everything scary,
you’d forgive him for all your murders,
(you’ll forgive him for running
from places you’re anchored,
stuck without a breath
you’ll forgive him,
because it’s the thought
that counts, and he
can’t chase something
that’s already empty.)
be brave,
when you're speeding down highways,
ignore winter's chill, & be brave
take it easy on back roads
at night, & remember to watch for deer
even you, with your clockwork heart
& too sharp words, wouldn't be invincible
& i'd hate to see you fail at anything
(be it breathing, breaking
or facing your fears, i hope you
succeed with all the pride & grace
you have at your disposal)
my darling summer bird,
with winter seeping into your bones
& slowing gears one by one-
promise me you'll be brave
even when everyone's against you
& you're stuck in a not so friendly place.
i. rivers are stronger than oceans despite their size
they tumble through sharp mountains
but they never, ever stop
ii. i can rush and pick up sediments
and disperse them where i wish
iii. i'm lying -
i knew you saw it anyway,
there's seaweed in my fingernails
and salt on my breath
look upon your graphite
affectation
with the pride
of all anguish sated
lately your edacity
for serotinal complications
are misprizing your
comely vapors
all concupiscence
aside
you are sapient
despite
your malleability
a paragon of
assiduous virtu
outré truth
that i am
maladroit to prove
lacunae opportune
and reticent
your dictum ossified
in paean bloom
incipient
and patient looming
mosaic organ beats
a keystone in this cataclysm
where every giant spider speaks
the same universal language
and every emblem breached gives way
to a roiling, blithe bonanza
where we can normalize the weak within
their innocuous intentions
and i think my sister's pregnant
with another weathered contranym
for these raw and harrowed days out-numbered
by technical miasma
and anecdotes so honed they seem
as tired as they are compelling