Off Ramp
This wasn’t the exit I wanted.
This a scattered merge away
from where everyone else is headed.
This one abrupt. This one crept up,
appeared, no sign, unnumbered,
not on the map.
It lingered then. Wouldn’t take.
Kept appearing. Couldn’t shake off
potential of miles ahead. Couldn’t
handle a rest to the side. The deciding
seems choiceless, like a must—all
routes seem to end in collision.
Distracted by a voice and a promise
now insincere. Terms decided on
cruise control to pass by on-ramps
and overpasses but to an advantage.
Now we’re too far gone. There’s
no going back.
Falling Towards Where We Don’t Want To Go Again
I am sad for so many reasons
I cannot name. Lightbulbs
shatter in bad packaging—
too many to choose from
in the aisle. An overwhelming
task—numb in the hardware store.
How many heartbreaks does it take
to screw in a lightbulb?
How many weeks to get
unscrewed.
Candles can’t replace false light.
They cause more body wracking,
offer more to shiver at—
snuffed out. What’s lost in a church pew.
What’s admitted inside a confessional.
At shoreline, foam. On a precipice,
wind. Concave mirrors. Knotted hair.
It’s all too much to have to conjure up
every single time.
We Eat The Dead
One becomes a simple fraction of the other
Names baked up into the bread
War happens every so often
Hunger strikes forts in a cold then
wool coats in summer
Taste each name
up on a green hill
when cloud cover dissipates
Make do with what is in reach at the time
They had graves and stones so they took in
a span of years and a legacy of last words
no longer planted at the head but knocked
down to keep a precious life going a little
bit longer at the least
to outlast the other side
if only by a moment.
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