Unseen

The second week of November I came home from the library to discover an envelope on my pillow.  At first I thought someone had mailed me a tardy condolence card, but Bryan always left mail for me on the foyer table, and the piece in question was lacking both a stamp and an address.  Curious, I picked up the mystery envelope and inserted my finger underneath the flap—only to remember Bryan telling me something at breakfast.  Something about how Bob would be coming over to the apartment that night while I was at the library, to pick Bryan up for a basketball game.  

My finger froze in place.

It couldn’t be.  There had been no letters, no glass rocks, no nothing since my first week at Bob’s apartment.  But no one else was in the habit of leaving unmarked envelopes on my pillow, and Bob, Tim's favorite messenger, had come to the apartment that night.   Who else could it be from?

Cautiously I opened the envelope.  As I withdrew the note-sized piece of paper, sparsely dotted with handwriting that I had come to know better than my own, I could feel my stomach seize up.  What if the few words on the page said something like I hate you, or Just so you know, I never loved you after all?  What if he truly were gone forever?  Bryan had taken all of my pills away.  I would have to settle for a kitchen knife this time.  Mentally composing the letter I would leave for Bryan, I lowered my eyes to read the two sentences on the page:

Saturday, 8:00 p.m.   It’s been long enough. 

I flipped the piece of paper over.  On the other side was the fragment of a math proof. 

My eyes filling with tears, I went to my closet.  I needed to find something good to wear.  I was going to see Tim—on Saturday, his 22^nd birthday.

Out There

In the mirror I touch my lips

the oil from the nightmare 

dirties my fingertips
I remember thinking about balance
the teeter totters scared me
they jumped up so fast
no time

Transparency

I see a man
on top of a hill underneath 
a tree
I turn to face him
we stand there for a while
the grass is green from the rain
he does not know my name
I turn to him
I open my mouth and nothing gags
he listens
I turn to run I run run run
down the hill my arms stretched wide
I dive between the tall grass
the grass is tall from the rain
he calls for the daydreamer but I am 
gone
it is too late
he does not know my name but he knows
there is no turning back

Shadows & Lies

Because for some easy breathing I 

would trade you

we were born of dust and air and

clouds

evaporating

you want to cry

but you have been dry for so long

that despair has cut a 

dirt rock river

through the canyons of your 

lungs

Bullets

I wanted to trade the

violence for something 

holy

transform sky into

reality

Everyday my face seemed 

the same 

until the morning I no

longer recognized 

what

remained

Paradise Lost

Listen to me.

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 dark
green carpeting
hold my hand for just
a little while
We are moving
and fading
on and on.

Pieces

And when I choose to come here again                                                                     

will it snow how it did in my dreams

                        will I be

a story worth telling

                  because the sadness—

it crackles in the night

           

for you           

the mistake worth regretting

                           the faraway voice        filled with belonging

do you see where eternity ends

did you know that you were my friend

this planet a box that holds me