A fried cloud.
Hovers out of her arms into my lap, gushing from a blue-striped plate, surprised by
A spider in my cup.
Frightens her. Is a door slammed by a ghost. It mices her. Mouses. Rats her out. Cats
her to stay forever-in. The china slashes my leg into
A lump.
Of my flesh glomps on the withered deck underneath our three-legged table. It
starts to grow into a snowman. Says, ‘your heart froze last winter.’ Or maybe it was
fall, November, wrought with salt-water birthday candles, memorizing the cool
Askew leaves.
Suddenly conceal her face. She is smothering. I try to pluck them out from her eye
lashes. She is sobbing. She is sorry. I am so sorry, but I chuckle. I rip the departings
out of her throat. Say: ’tell me what you’re thinking.’ She: ‘the leaves tell me my
touch turned you limestone.’ I: ‘don’t worry, I still love you.’ I think her cauldron is
at
A boiling point.
is my mouth. It won’t stay still. I want to banshee, but I cinch the corners up in a nice
bow. She: ‘you’re my smiley girl.’ How do I break that promise? Mostly, my foxfire
muzzle wants to be masquerading. Them: ‘laughter was his legacy.’ I: ‘Fine, I will
lamp-shine someone’s day.’ Their gift-smile accomplishes the empty part of me. But
only for a little while. I: ‘am sorry’, I chuckle, I feel clumpy. How can I: ‘please
forgive me for being sad.’ (I’m the only one of us left perpendicular.) How can I: ‘just
let me take a break from being a backbone.’ (I’m over-risen. Chiropractic.) How can
I: ‘I have panic attacks, I hallucinate I hug our house-frame on my graham-cracker
shoulders and if I’m not smiling then none of us are how can I tell them wouldn’t
they hate me would they or us be able to handle something gentle if all I can do is
crack it’? Don’t worry, I’m
smiling.