Somewhere in another life—

I have a family. All together under one roof,
not a single thing is discernible in the jovial
chatter, all amongst the other like
water skeeters, stones on a clear, glass pond
Rivulets of honey slipping betwixt to become a laugh on another’s lips

In adjacent rooms, we whisper gleefully,
someone is finger combing through my
hair absently, past the casement windows
there is an ochre radiance that
the morning glories vine around
and the deer in the fields observe
inquisitively, drawn to us in the powder blue evening

Like licorice, slippery elm and dates
Long socks and linen, hands caked in
flour—

Effervescent, a little salt, a dream


Somewhere.

the RATF in Sandusky, Ohio
Is perhaps the loudest place
in the world according to Guinness—

Highly reflective,
with sound levels tremendous enough
To perforate an eardrum and shake
the vocal chords so viciously one might
feel like they’re choking.

But it may actually be inside my head—
The loudest place, I mean.
The words are all gathering up there;
shrill, in the corners,
vibrating against the concrete.

They say Krakatoa could be heard 3000
miles away but that’s simply child’s play—

It’s all neither here nor there, though.
It’s all hypothetical.
It’s all just a room at Plum Brook Station.

on the hammock this evening
the west pasture filled with thick
mulberry clouds, framed by sheathes of
apricot mist in drapes

I am watching the leaves of The Cottonwood
shimmer, flip their golden underbellies up
like schools of danios

And I’m talking to God about being alone—
I send a couple videos to Alyssa

Somewhere on Central some young boys
rip down the backroads up Fields on
their little bikes, setting every dog off in
the copse mobile home park

it’s not that I’m not grateful

No messages. Just wind, late evening.
Sunday with the Lord.

I am still the forget-me-not on the far wall
A marigold in the back row
A single sunflower in the corner of the yard

I have not yet become all
the flowers I want but

Rest assured I still am one.

After the rodeo they held a
dance in the 4-H building behind the stands—
They haven’t done that since 2017

I still walked back to my car in silence,
the din of a crowd behind me, freshly plowed dirt and pine, warm beer

I’m in this red summer dress, little yellow flowers all the way down to my ankles,
this is the kind of dress you’re supposed to find me in, in the cornflower blue evening, wisps of peach stratus clouds stretched behind the glaring rodeo lights

Deep Wreck and some kid from Wyoming
arced against the masses, wild hair flying
Red checkered pearl snap

You’re supposed to find me here, You.
You’re supposed to fall in love with me.

Turn it Loose by the Judds plays in the little
red alcove, a bandstand in the foreground;

I get in the car and go home.

Perhaps it is not made for me—
I’m afraid if happiness ever prevailed
to settle upon me it
might be swept away suddenly and
without warning

I have feared that my entire life;
every small joy I have gripped with
the hands of a child
it’s tendrils curled in the web of my
fingers, rare as Vigné a Farinet
fleeting,

Always

Fleeting.

After thomas died—

I started getting tattoos because
I was suffocating myself in grief
drowning daily in my bed,
in the bathroom, in the yard
laying beached in the grass
beneath a deluge of confusion
no water for miles but I am still
Sinking

Drifting through the Surrey hallways
as an apparition, his blood
on my shins
Garrett’s muffled voice asking
If we could just clean her up

Not yet, we need pictures.

I am a callow soul, his death has stripped me
my mother is calling me a silly girl for
The Psalms on my forearm
Luke across my thigh  
for Nehemiah down my spine
I am trying not to die and
all she can focus on is
the wisp of a golden girl gone

This is the catalyst,
the turning point, the ordained moment—
I have not had many of these but when they come they are all encompassing;
I am suddenly not me anymore but
Wet clay, the potter has unmade
me nearly beyond recognition

death has come
And the lord has let it shape me

Death came and it almost took me—
I fought for my life and all my mother could say was

Silly girl


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