Ghosts

When I opened the cage and released the girl, she howled past me, a cyclone powered by atomic pain.  I crouched against the wall and covered my ears but I could still hear her screams, the terrified shouts of those in the lost restaurant, as she raged deadly witness against them.

Wishing

I will find you even 

though I know

On this dream the 

night has declared

war.

Unspoken

It was cold even though the rain had ended and the sun now peeked out from behind the clouds.  In Wisconsin the coldest days were always the sunniest.

His father came up from behind him.  “Farmer’s Almanac says it’s going to be a wet winter," he remarked.

Jonah nodded, lost in an abstraction.  “It's nice, isn't it?" his father said, gesturing toward the headstone.

"Yeah.  It turned out well."

"Used them for your grandparents--they did a good job then, too.  Very reliable." 

The two men stood silently for a moment, considering the engraving job.  Jonah was about to comment on the etched flower in the corner when his father told him, "I'm moving to Florida."

Jonah looked over at him.  “You are?  When?”

“Tomorrow.  No point in staying here.  The realtor says I’ll make a mint on the house, and I have a condo down there.  Bought it with your mother right before she got sick.”  His father cleared his throat.  “Be nice if you could visit.  The condo has a guestroom.  You’re welcome to use it.”

“Thanks.”

His father nodded.  “Okay, then.  Tell Jackie I said goodbye.”

“You’re not going to tell him yourself?”

“He’s busy tonight.  Something about a poker game, and I didn’t get a chance to tell him before that.  The movers are coming Saturday.  You mind checking in, to make sure they’re doing things right?”

“…Okay.”

“Maybe you can come in April.  April’s real nice there—not too humid.  We could go to Disneyworld, or Universal Studios.  Always wanted to take you boys there when you were young, but...”  His father cleared his throat again.  “Okay, then.  Talk to you soon.” 

“Talk to you soon,” Jonah echoed.  He watched his father shuffle off to the parking lot before he returned his attention to the headstone.  Beloved mother and wife, it read.  Strange how something so true could sound so meaningless at the same time.

In this world

Did you tell me I would be broken

when you made me special

Did you call me hopeless

when I begged for forgiveness

Because now I am crawling

waiting for tomorrow

With a today so very desperate

that yesterday is hiding

There is no more point here

I shout into the echo

But I can feel nothing

other than this burden

Special for your weakness

Special for my survival

Special is what kills me

I cannot defy it

But I am sane and you are not

and here we are and there I was

when I cannot breathe out loud

lest you hear me moving

Far out of your orbit

spinning in slow motion

Trying to shout louder

than a kitten’s mewling

Will the planets find me

all my silent crying

Now I can feel nothing

only my plates shifting

Into old arrangements

nothing ever changes

If you could have loved me

let me be ordinary

The world would have opened

the stars would have held me

But now I am so special

the goddess of your nothing

What you poured inside me

it was not for growing

It was all for killing

what was only dying

to be loved at all...

Suffocation

In this tidal wave of 

failure 

we sink further into 

our own unknown

drowning with the 

final question:

what else could we do?

Unexpected

I buried the doll behind a tree.  Just as I was arranging some sticks and dead branches to camouflage the grave, a small, champagne-colored mass of fur appeared from behind a bush.  

Either it had no legs, or its legs were camouflaged by its fluff, because it barely cleared the ground as it walked over to me.  It was impossible to feel afraid of the creature, though: something about it was strangely appealing, even if its head seemed too large for its body, and its face was so flat that it almost curved inward.  

The creature considered me with dark, globular eyes.   I just stood there, uncertain, until it barked in a friendly sort of way.  Only then did I realize it was a dog.  “Hello,” I said. 

The dog bared crooked teeth at me in a comical attempt at a smile.

“What are you doing here?” I asked it.

The dog snorted.

When I then sniffled, drying the last of my tears with my sweater sleeve, the dog shuffled over and gently head-butted my ankle.  I leaned over to pet it, which the dog seemed to like very much.  Suddenly grateful, I kissed its head.  It smelled like vanilla cake.

Inevitability

We are the paint peel chipping.

Dangling over the prickly

bushes.

Waiting with an eye

toward falling.

I wonder who I will be

when I am cut and

bleeding—

I wonder who I will be

when I have

given up.

It is like the blanking of

a color screen.

The bleaching of forest

green carpeting.

Hold my hand for just

a little while--

we are moving

and fading

on and on.