dream ii: messy mix

i was looking for vegetables
with a sun stung nape
grubs and pillbugs and silverfish burrowed
and i uncovered
bones of confederates lying still and quiet
in the cool earth
split femurs and arms and vertebrae too
I plucked up the skull by its eyes
‘why hello’
well hello to you too sir

glitter fish
fiddler crab pops
sheer dress
shear stress
cheekbones split air into vetiver fumes
I’ll keep my socks on
eat alphabet soup
trace finger stripes on a dusty table

i tucked a child into my jacket once when he was cold but he’s fine now
my dog pressed his cold pebble nose into my palm once but he’s dead now

you are the bruise shifting under my skin
roam my bones
eat me at the river mouth
delta delta
don’t you?
puncture veins with your egg tooth

gravity pushes you to pear
on that boat
and I
I write letters to you on gum wrappers
let her press my body into mattress springs
but all i want is you you you
cover me warmly
cut me deeply
leave me loudly

I hold your shirt hem
between my thumb and index
to remind myself that you’re here
that you’re real
and I could graft out a piece of you if I want

I took a fig once but no one saw
no revelation no truth (no sirens neither)
so i’ll stop the car
steal an ear of sweet corn
peel back the silk and bite white
taste chalk dust, drift.


hypoglycemic syncope

everything folding into white
yellow roses press at
backlids of my eyes
steady rise till ringing

my edges untie

where are my hands
where is the door
i hope that
finds me

dream i: funeral home

dark paneled wood hallway
wide floorboards 
snapping lights flicker
long hallway, could touch either side if i spread my arms out
grimy window panes on the left side 
i’m with someone 
(i don’t know who)
they’re holding me, 
arms wrapped around my shoulders and 
my head is tucked onto their chest

she or he doesn’t want me to look but i do 
i turn my head left 
i realized we’re in a funeral home
the body of someone we know is being treated 

they’re dead and they are close.

we pass the embalming room, flat slab of metal.
fluorescent, sterile.
in the next room, a man in all white is bent over,
supporting the limp body of a dead black man with his shoulder.

the dead's skin is grayish, swollen and shiny.
wearing normal clothes, maybe a sweatshirt and nice pants.

the doctor is holding clippers, and
they buzz loudly as
the doctor cuts his patient's hair. 
the neck is bent because this patient is dead.
hair falls in fuzzy patches to his shirt, his pants.