samhein

the glass above me, black

with velvet hours and heavy

i was wearing my elbows in again, wringing

wrists like my future self. pre-emptively arthritic

in the mind

but i get these day dreams

neck-to-neck with rationality, competing in jest

like a reunion match for nostalgia’s sake

he was rattling toward me, big

chunks of metal and plastic grating on the bitumen.

i could imagine the smell of warmth

the bodies at rush hour

i could imagine his head, big lollypop

glazed eyes lolling along the scenery

and later, combing his hair down the middle,

slighted by the oncoming troop, ruthless

the regime of self doubt

monday. second guessing-

the dullness of the street and its personal lack of traffic

the cars that do are yellow

dimmed like old photographs

the photo, with my eyes closed and her teeth open

dark browns and greys, a smokey palate

for the palliative

her fingers got skinny like fine smooth branches

placed the ring in my hand said look after this

went back to her pudding, never left

with my compass i set the altar north and salted

my little prayers. who is this tinny voice

my personal cheshire, little grinning cherub

no longer earthbound

talking back the days through ashes

and the flowers from their cremation