on the verge of dying for poetry
again, the boring exorcism of hiatus
looking back at the word bank
all shy
B said some poems just
walk away!
like children
*
J died 7 years ago, today
a dark autumn night in NY
the hill we climbed
with the news
*
today is a triangle
with an exclamation point inside
J says
we can't ever do what we want to do
anymore, that's the new secret club
today I go,
what is a 7 years
a bouquet?
some off lights
reflecting the sun
the triangle with
the exclamation point
extends,
encrypted
*
last Yom Kippur
I went to services in SF
where I met an old friend
and her young dad
it was early morning
and the city was
bright gold
later we wrote
what we didn't need
on scraps of paper and
put them in a clear vase of
tap water
for atonement,
I brainstorm some pools in the area
*
the blood thing
is really more
about draining
I fainted in the
process of
playing cool
they pushed a Kiss
into my mouth and
squeezed me and
low key
reprimanded me
the bad quiz on loop
I can't see my own eyes!
or bite my own teeth
