Friday, December 24, 2010

299

If you can live in margins
in the backs of heavy throats,

kick up the furniture
where it may or may not float back down.

Live where nothing tells you what time the sun comes up
if you can eat with the table hovering overhead
without wondering why

298

Stand where I can see you
so I don't have to wonder

I'm not going to watch you
as long as you know that I could

Otherwise disturb my sleep
blending in with the dark air and the walls.

297

When my brother took my money
to pay for his cigarettes and medical bills
and someone to tell him why
his dreams took place in his own bedroom

I realized I could love you
for if I had to, I would,
and I do sometimes when you forget you're alive.
You weren't born alone.

296

You told me you could build a wall
of cardboard boxes I could sit upon

You were so sure that I
climbed up for yards
and watched you, proud of the work you'd done

So when it fell I wasn't sure
if I'd actually fallen

295

For how much they knew,
the furniture surprised them
as it didn't move across the floor
in swift heavy jolts
when somebody spoke

294

The uncle in the room
can't remember the joke he told last year.
Everyone wishes the kids were small again
as they politely decline dessert
and maybe they should have planned it
so that they would still be young
when a cane leaned against the wall
and later someone would have to fold
back up the table.

293

When the power went out
in the subway car,
they wished they hadn't been afraid
to get caught wondering
what faces match the breathing of the
people next to them
while they still could see