I.
Stillness I never knew
and your stare somewhere ancient
defying my circadian rhythm first
then your property lines. Aliens would
laugh at the way I’m moved
by your breath rather than what’s in me.
Bring along your raven-esque
narcoleptic older sister who
takes you for the walks along the beach
to waters of our own
dream anchors. Wade into mine.
I tried to see another way
and you shimmered
glitch-like
like a god.
II.
Where do you
go at night?
Further in, you told me once
away from the
edge of the
forest where I
slink like a shadow
and tell you way
too much about my head.
I respect how you
run. That’s not true, not truly.
I respectfully scream us to sleep
in the middle of my stampede.
Heaven’s gaze will go cerulean when
you hear my greatest symphony. It’s new.
I’m heaving over
here, believe it. Stay restless
and churning, boo boo.
Stay showing off
those moon rocks in
your head. Chemical
trail lashes. Something
cosmic and it’s making me age.
III.
I’m at your window with
my mouth wide open. I’m sorry. I
promised to never wake you. Stereo
throwing nothing but
love songs from the night
your parents met. Spit down heavy.
