A doctor once told me I feel too much.
I said, “So does God
That’s why you can see the Grand Canyon from the moon.”
We are a telescope, a riverbed.
We are empty lockets melting into gold.
We are hearts breaking bread.
Fold me in the napkin poem,
Pull the tinsel from my hair from all the past I cannot let go.
My gills are adjusting to the air,
The story husk peeled from my bones;
My bones know the song of our tears,
Dripping from the faucet,
Ticking like a metronome.
I know there is better music,
Even in this cabin full of fever.