23/30

i.

I am heading east / silent like the friends were / silent in the gravestone quiet night’s purple fingers / quiet in heaves / droves of eels migrating across the ocean floor like paper cranes in space lost from astronaut fingers / delicate and flying / gnawing at my brain like cancer / cancer like cavity inside my head / there is something else / something leading me away / I cannot stop the feet’s dreaded hustle  / the contortions of my feelings into gymnastic figurines, wooden movements pushing forward into dead evening sky clouded with uncertain hands on balance beam legs / we are moments on the platform / all wet eyes and tangles / and the rain sets into our hair / this is old hollywood feelings / canned and plastic but real / the summer’s heat is just creeping in / and I can already feel the breaking of the fall / the death of winter / and the dark of springs unknown

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