diary 30

[ w/ bright green large format dot grid & blue ink ]

having never been mistaken for anyone’s mother,
agreed to make the drive north to be echo or copy,
to undress cherries, all stain and no stationary, not
a word you said, it’s not that strong a resemblance.
voided the process for the sea. who sounds like ocean says
ocean twice. who starts the conversation never finishes
it. never finishes. the mirror is slightly inland, deep in
green’s unfinished project. drop dinner. rinse fiber.
ask your pain to alleviate you. among the beasts, two
big ones quietly. two ways of moving on the earth with
four legs. twice the height, half the self-awareness.
the ghosts of other lovers don’t stay but they do pass
through. they do pass through you. they do stick in
the tight spaces where your organs square. the ghost
of fear haunts you until you admit it does. crush the
soda can of your disappointment. the door slams you
and not the other way around. there is no other way
around. the ghost presses through. you press on. the
mirror you is also an approximation of the future. the
future walls are made of glass. the future animals
lick your ankles. the future ground is soft sand.
the past drags and you let it. the past doesn’t drag you.
among the beasts, too many to count. scent is a vehicle
and the road is unmarked. tuck your youth deep in the
hay. press your fingers with the grain of the hair.
they’re no coarser than you are. you’re not here
because their bodies are bigger than yours anymore.
you have permission to visit as much as survive. you
grant your own permissions. the horses lift their
heads unnaturally high but then who’s to say what’s
natural. the whine of a too-long song. the tide sending
itself elsewhere. i pressed my fingers there while
you fell asleep. we were both satisfied. two resting
bodies upstairs. two bodies downstairs, broken
from brief accounts. you didn’t ask. you didn’t
say whose house goes on without him, the unkind
man. witness the unkind man’s broken window, his
quiet way. his tearing roof and awkward ductwork.
his blood’s herd of animals. his blood but never his
face. it never occurs to them they’ll ever be quiet
and then quietness comes for them.