reading salanger is getting me no place,
all the walls still make four, and the carpet
has not slid out from under me. the phone
stopped ringing (around 4:15pm) just after
the dreamsweeper ran through and
tossed up all my papers and books!
trying to hold a thousand things in
two small boxes is causing things to
snap around the edges. the exodus chest
(of our love and loss) is cracking.
the respected masses have gathered
up near the flanks. camera hands moist.
don't drink the anticipation! it's poison
in our systems. no, not because we are old-
because we are new. because for so long
our skies weren't even blue, remember?
we had no idea what that looked like,
when we were skybroken. but then-
sweet things passed. flowers came
from the fissures, time stopped working.
and our love became immaculate!
all just before we realized, we were
moths, amongst the butterflies.