baby squirrel.

baby squirrel
first of the year
i loved the way you ran away from me today
with a holey piece of thin dead leaf stuck on your nose
i love how your furry tail twisted in a gracefully panicked blur told me
that you were afraid of me
that you hated me and the space i took up in your territory
i loved your jumbled scramble up the tree
how your nails scratched at the bark, the clatter, the friction
i loved your escape from gravity and human courtesy
you made it easy for me to read your fear and dislike for me
unlike the people i meet who dare not say much
so they can be polite even though
the smell of my body and the wrinkles on my clothes do not suit them
you were not afraid to hurt my feelings to save yourself
you made me feel unwanted but you made it clear
and i like clarity with my pain
so baby squirrel
go tell your mother she's taught you well for me
and know that i love you even though you have good reason to hate me
and my kind.

dream repeated; or, loss.

fell in love, falling asleep on his lap, feeling comfort in the initial tension in his muscles,
the breath that didn't quite come

when i looked good with chin-length hair that flipped at the ends, slightly, quietly,
when i was held in security, my body was happy, my mind disappeared

warmth
but no lips to remember you by

before they shouted run, run
i would have liked to fall asleep on your lap again,

but they had already shouted,
their words burned against my back
and made the sweat return to the pores from which they came--

leaping up the stairs i tried to avoid the flash of light that would take everything away:
i never saw it

my brother, i had a brother

he seemed to have forgotten something

now i can't remember if i forgot anything,
stopping atop the flight of stairs i paused with steady breathing.

between the entrance and the exit lies a sin i paid in bits to make
it grows
slow
between the seconds of each hour and the looks of each day i live
see in the reflections of dusty windows
the bulge heavy in its place
folded within each layer of skin falling over
to hide
losing itself and its purpose
to kill
to lie
to instill fear in this space of respiring bodies overgrown like fat dandelion weed
composed and gentle but each part longing to detach and fly off to another place
waiting for my breath to come
to be released from their bonds
the middle that holds them still
i forgot myself
between the entrance and the exit of seasons
having overstayed my summer day allowance
grew desperate in autumn and fell in winter
never to see my sin bloom in spring
to repeat
me.

who could say

you think you hate me
when i say i know you as i know myself
when i hold that looking glass up
in front of your face with its wrinkles and spots
you see what you do not wish to see
yet i make you observe
i make you look at the details that are far too deep
to be just a fluke
but you cry
closing your eyes and covering your ears
you fear
that what i say is not a lie
that what you see is not a ghost
but a thing with life so close to you
that you realize
it is you
with your wrinkles and your spots
and the hairs that have begun to fall
and you think you hate me
for showing you this--
even as i love you--
for without these,
without the dust that falls
the birds that fly
and the fish that scatter
on the surface of the water,
to disrupt its perfect peaceful sleep,
who could say
that this is real
and not a dream?

different.

i am a broken thing
you cannot fix
but remind me when i forget
you are a broken thing
i cannot fix
and when we are both
yelling about our brokenness
remind me again
so i can remind you
that since we are all
like this
we are not quite broken
we are
maybe
just the way we are
almost the same kind
of disjointedness
but in different shapes
and colors
different years
and waters
different
but not quite different.

to curl your hair around my finger
i hear your breath quiet on your pillow
i see when the cars pass by outside
your nose digs softly into it
by the running strips of shadowed light
so this way i lie awake
wondering if i should step over you
to go to the bathroom
to grab that q-tip
to run along
the insides of my ears
to rid the itch deep in my head
unreachable
though my nails are of considerable length
(i fear the edges might slice something loose)
so this way i lie awake
wondering if i should step over you
for fear of waking you
and for your peace i would
stay quietly and restrained
even as i tangle my limbs
as the drill continues through my ear
inside the knots of my mind.

at night
she could hear the couple
making love upstairs
rather forcefully

and
looking down at her copy
of lady chatterley
she wondered.

choose.

you can choose, i tell her
you can choose for me and for yourself
what you want to this be

you can tell me
i want you to lie
i want something sweet

not bitter stringy celery
not burnt pb-chocolate bars
not frozen leftovers

i want you to tell me
words that walk around
the dumpster stink

so tell me
that you care enough about me
to sugar my coffee

so i tell you
baby i've never loved
anyone but you

you are my life
my purpose
my heaven on earth

you make me whole
you make me happier
than i could ever imagine

you make me
tell you
what i don't know i don't mean

or you can tell me
i want your truth
i want your love

(because if i wanted
to hear lies
i could do that myself)

i want whatever
you have cooked
for our dinner tonight

even if it is only
the distance and air
between you and me

as long as you say
this is all i have
can you understand?