10 October 2011

All the nights flowing into each other
the same set of nightmares
followed by mornings of surgical repair
where I thrust my hands deep into my chest and grope
along the edges of the parts that came undone
during the night
which is all of them, as usual.
Running my fingers over the jagged pieces
causing me to relive every broken thought
just so I can find the part that matches it
so I know what to sew to what.
Sometimes there are no clear answers
just brutalized flesh and pain without end
in which case I'll bind junk to junk
with butcher's string that seems like it should hold together enough
to make it through the day at least.
And sitting at this vanity table, working by brown lamp light
it's not enough to say that I would do this all again for you
that I will do this again for you every day
for the rest of my life
only because I once had a vision of us unbroken
and translucent like delicate Japanese paper
held up to brown light revealing
the most wonderful trees
which were only sketched in pencil
but were strong enough to hold us
and to keep people away from us
so that there was no chance of misunderstanding
and bared teeth were merely an invitation
to move in closer until I could feel your breath
and you could feel this stitched up bitch
I have inside of me, heaving and restless and throwing dishes
against the walls
but when seen by brown lamp light
she looks like rain washing down the window
down the path, down the gate
which opens for her with ease
as she spills onto the streets
lined with trees sketched in pencil.
And this image of us
on these same streets, in black and white
the only sounds being the clacking of hooves
of tame night animals and you breathing
against me
all your thoughts flowing into my mind
so that we never have to speak
of painful things like brown lamp light, the weakness of butcher's string
or recurring nightmares which hold us
together.