did I summon you?
with these sounds I thought were only mine?
in the dark of my room
pinching back the present
to let ancient waters flow through
and in the morning
(in a small, small way)
without me knowing I wanted you
had called you
had been waiting all this time
and the crest recedes as I reach for the note
where you ask me
(as you have countless times before)
how many shades of blue I can see before 9 am
here they come gnawing
impervious to threats and kicks to the throat
under stale skies
but even they’re dried up
what a mess.
less than zero is?
who fucking knows or cares
smells like maple syrup and shawarma on this side of town
kind of like it.
miss home though.
amaranth by the pound
or was it teff?
wonder if you’re taking care of the skyline like I asked
got things of your own I’m sure
saw a picture of some trees you took from below
wasn’t that great of a shot but
maybe you were happy when you took it?
not me though
the power of my own thighs can cheer me tonight
maybe if I pedal hard enough
I will take flight
option two (just as good)
my tire will clip a rock and I’ll be thrown from the planet
into the night/onto cement
where all the blood trapped for 20 odd years
will rush to the wound
and I’ll be left quiet and waiting for someone to notice me
in death as in life
and the local authorities will find my phone with this poem on it
and my grocery list
(cashews, eggs, “good” cheese)
and texts I should have taken care
to delete oh well
longing turns to flatlands
to trees I used to climb in youth
to closing the blinds in the afternoon
and falling asleep to slowdive at 4pm
waking to little hungry mouths on my fingertips
so I shove them in my pockets
bound and gagged
to look at your old house
down on cathedral street
where I’ll stand until it starts to rain
and then some