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i was holding your hand tight
you were tightly holding my hand i told myself
you were holding my hand
and you
dragged me
into the river i told myself
the river i told you about in the summer

with no more armies to face
with no more graves to dig
with no more words we
crossed that river home

i told myself it wasn't my fault when you
stood at the house we built and
i told myself it was a fair fight while you
told me you were telling the truth and
you smiled when you
said it and
i believed you.

finally, at long long last,
i stood upon the edge of the cliff face
facing the wind and setting sun -
you behind me - headed west.
finally, the lie was just a lie

i mark the last two days of february (with an X) off on the calendar (i don't live here sunday through thursday so i have to mark many at once) hanging in the kitchen (above the small counter not attached to the main counter where the keurig lives and the cats' water bowl) with the sharpie (broad tipped, blue (my father insisted it would feel the same as the black broad tip he misplaced (it doesn't))) from the junk drawer (that is pretending to be organized). i finish february (finally!!) and flip the page to meet the month-of-march kitten (that i did not look at when taking the plastic wrap off the calendar in january (i wanted it to be a surprise (i think it's a shame they put the monthly pictures on the back of all calendars (if i knew what the image was going to be, i might not use the calendar (the element of uncertainty is thrilling enough (i am not an adrenaline junkie, if you couldn't tell)))))). i am alone (in the kitchen where the calendar is (hanging as if to imply it is for everyone to use but that i insist no one touch (i think my neglect of the ritual of marking the days is what has been causing my insomnia))) because my sister said she was going to the bathroom (and coming right back, (no worries) i promise, (really, it's fine) to talk to you, about you, (oh it's ok) because i spent soooo much time talking about my week, (it's ok, i asked) but how are you? (i'm ok) how have you been? (fine) how is school?? (well, you know-) hold that thought!), but did not come back downstairs again, so no one gets to see the new kitten (picture) before i do (a private pleasure/privilege/plight (pick ONE)). it is small and brown and striped and its fur is sticking up at all sorts of odd angles (like how a balloon sticks to your hair (like a van de graff generator (touch metal (of car) to discharge static electricity before pumping gas))) while it stands in lush, dark green grass halfway up its little legs. it's a really good picture (the July ones are never good) and i half-smile-for-a-second. i mark off wednesday and thursday (the first ones of march, with an X), noting the crude doodle (cartoonish) of my mother (with her freckles featuring prominently) i drew (back in january) on the calendar (drawn with the black sharpie, now lost for good) to announce (or remind us of) her birthday, and i sigh to nobody (except the picture of the small, brown, month-of-march kitten, who i suppose is a somebody?), and put the sharpie (blue, broad tipped) back into the (disorganized) junk drawer.

₁ i found the face of god
₂ at the bottom of a pill bottle.
₃ it was an ugly sneering punim,
₄ perfectly symmetrical,
₅ hauntingly sleek.

₆ he, himself, and not an angel,
₇ he, himself, and not a seraph,
₈ he, himself, and not a messenger.

₉ he asked if i had gotten his voicemail,
₁₀ and i told him i had,
₁₁ and that i would call him back
₁₂ in the morning
₁₃ if i felt a little better.

can we try again?
"Kill Your Darlings"
is hastily stick-n'-poked on the back of my
loving hand / my sword wielding hand / my writing you a letter hand
to remind me that this will end
with a coffin
lined in red velvet
filled with poppies
and lilac and
you.

my left eye is covered by
the bandage made from
your white cotton shirt as
an apology. i'm sorry
that this can only end one way.

i didn't mean to
drag you into this / make you suffer / love you
but some things we can't escape
like quicksand (the more you struggle)
or asphyxiation (the faster you die again)

can we try again?
this time i'll hold you like a secret and
this time i'll jump first and
this time i'll make promises that i won't keep/will keep.