“I am a long swill of Midwestern summer”
I am a long swill of Midwestern summer
and, I am dark deer collision in frigid morning,
I am the dust kicked up by the car as we left the farm behind us.
I am blue in the face during birth, not quite ready to face breath yet,
and I am throwing away the rocks in my pockets and shoes as I stare
into the sea and decide to walk back home. I’ve seen enough.
I’ve been enough.
I’ve been on the kitchen floor, muffling sound in tile.
I’ve been up on the rock, watching the ships come in, watching color
dull as I grow older.
I have been a heart attack for 13 years,
my life unspooling and tangling in my hair.
I am terror, didactic and punishing, holding my head in place as the
eats away at my garage. I am death,
I am dying,
I am sleeping and quiet and dead in my bed already.