not me in the mirror

not me with my veins glowing

through the wall and my vows

in pieces on the opposite wall

the flame starts at my sweater hem

and burns up what is human in me

forgive me for being a cornered rat

forgive me for thinking there was

something in the sky

for finding a tiny door with a painted eye

and believing so ardently that it led

somewhere other than a blank wall

that i let the rest of my life

curl up at the edges and wither

i thought i was a heron made of fire

but i was only the patron saint of driving

myself home with a brain injury

on top of my thoroughbred depression

my only goal was to get home safe

i didn’t plan for what came after, and after

when i said the light hurt my eyes

i meant it in more ways than i could imagine

the doctor said there was bad news and good news

they were the same

that there is no end in sight

i love the way you move through time.

i want to move through time with you.

let’s go to the museum of miniatures

and look at the horse carved

from the lead of a sharpened pencil.

let’s get hospitalized together.

when i drink too much, join me

under the blankets and rub my back.

pour me a glass of water and make me

finish it. make me finish what i begin. hold me

to ideas of beauty and valor

that make sense and feel attainable.

when i’m busted for my arson ring,

be my prison penpal. forgive me

for the way i keep speaking in imperatives.

let’s make a language full of wildflower

fricatives and vintage memes and

lingering touches of the hand

that give way to moments of piercing

grace. i’ll distract the guard while you trace

a fingertip down the marble statue’s

immaculate asscrack.

when you laugh, the bloom it makes

is bluer than the spark

flashing through a cat’s winter fur:

something i can feel worthy of

one day your heart will have enough

and lie down by the side of the road

feeling the wind caress its damp face

yes your heart has a face

it is crooked and secretive, tucked away

in a meaty fold like something delicious

some wonderful lewdness

your heart will sink into the reeds

and a stranger on a dark horse will ride by

abrim with silvery accoutrements

jingling and flashing from under their cloak

maybe a sword in their orbit, maybe

a bird or the idea of one nearby

the stranger will place their fingers

in your heart’s mouth until it shudders

like an engine and goes blue-black

your heart will jostle in a sack

with others just like it, hitched

to the stranger’s saddle, and the world

will continue its fascinating work

ribbons in the trees

towers in the distance