Tagged: animals

Vision at Fallen Home

we took his couch,
some tools, to help
evacuate belongings

we took his cords

the garden too
has been demolished,
though the hummingbirds
return for the turk’s cap
along the fence

they go from stagnant,
to blistering, which
feels familiar

one transcendence
to another
a tourist in each

thinking about heading back
but pulled out
by color, certain
red objects

brilliant against
old footage
a poppy, a war

in many ways I feel
that we knew each other
before

we must have done

the way you identified
my mouth
like a plant from home

and I know your hands

and I fear so capably
your loss, as if
it has happened

SWAT

woke up drenched again, not
dreams, not raining, who knows
– there’s a resiny
imprint of me
on my mattress –

I go through what I ate
when, the withdrawal symptoms
of things like caffeine
pot, what I’m wearing
sleep positions, if
I should shower before

maybe my matress is a valley
my blankets roads
I overheat, sweat
become cold, pull them up

to wake unsure
where the water came from
if it’s water at all, or just salt
if while sleeping, I’ve
been swimming, and
barely made it back to shore

& Countless Other Things

        in my room there are four praying
mantises, two tarantulas, one puppy,
        two people

        matter is neither created nor
destroyed, but some things are small enough
        not to exist until culminated

        sex flicked off tables,
fingernail plate armor, dust bunnies,
        the occasional bird

        squirrels who gnaw 
the owl box
         back into the trunk

        the tree that fell so we
could stand before it, thinking
       through tunnels

        addressing dead starlings,
the consecutive order of ants,
        whether or not

        we should have seen it coming
upright decay on which
        we strung lights

        instead we watched it going
wilting & sopping
        but still holding up dinner

        for us, as much as anything
to get drunk & watch come
        creatures returning with tape

        inseparable to the earth
as if nothing could be greater
        than to be put in its misery

7-10

I run more when I’m single. I         dig holes in my skin
as if something might pupate         & emerge
I would like to be         more inwardly motivated
so my heart won’t come out black         in a rocky
bed. I’m consumed by         how much
it doesn’t hurt. Does that mean it hurts?