The chair I am sitting in sprouts a fifth leg
and I feel shaky and imbalanced.
The sky turns from blue to green.
There is a small child sitting cross-legged
in front of me, facing me.
I remember seeing him yesterday
in a different room, standing.
Someone behind me starts to cry.
I don’t turn around.
I stare at the boy from yesterday.
“When did I arrive?”
He looks up at the now yellow sky and speaks again.
“Was I late?”
I reach out my hand but I can only
graze the tip of his nose with my fingernails.
Part of his nose falls away as his nostrils
become larger and blacker,
creating two holes in the direct center of his face.
Three seconds later a faceless child sits
cross-legged in front of me.
He speaks again, but this time with his hands.
“The sky looks like the sea today.”
Above our heads the yellow has morphed
into a brownish orange as blue hints at the corners,
threatening a comeback.
I look back down at a pair of legs,
crossed at the ankles,
staring at me
like a flesh formed bow.
Sometimes I’ll fall asleep with my arm under the pillow. The weight of my head cuts off the blood flow to my wrist, palm and fingers, and after it’s done tingling with the pain of a million burning needles, it feels, for a moment, like I am in bed with a stranger.
you asked me if that nude photo i posted on tumblr was a cry for help and it made me want to die.
oh wait before you leave, i meant to ask you why you traded in our relationship for one with another sort of lesbian.
lol, oh wait you’re already gone.
lol, oh nevermind.
yah, that pic of me was a cry for help from me to you.
please help me out here, buddy. i need you.
i sit on a rock and envision my afternoon in the stream.
i will walk into this stream until the water reaches my thighs. i will carefully scoop up water in my cupped hands and pour it onto the sensitive parts of my body. i will adapt to the coolness of the water so that it doesn’t hurt when i go in above my waist and above my chest.
i will wade in the water for an as of yet undetermined length of time. i will live with the fish even though i am afraid of fish. i will swim in the green water until i am blue.
the rock i am sitting on is hot from the sun and i can smell my skin as it cooks. i didn’t bring a bathing suit and i am embarrassed about swimming in my underwear. i stay on the rock until the sun goes down instead. my skin returns to normal.
i find a dead fox while walking back to my car. the fox did not die of natural causes. the fox has been speared through its mid-section on a sharp tree branch. unless this fox was running really, really fast and then leapt into the air and happened to fall (very unluckily) onto this branch, there was foul play.
i am sad because i like foxes. i like how they walk. they seem to always be gliding. one less fox in this world makes me one less amount of being happy. i am at about 9 happies now. i don’t remember how many i started with. but i have 9 to last me for the rest of my life.
i should just kill myself when the last happy runs out.
i wonder if i can gain happies. maybe if i witness a fox giving birth i will be able to cancel out the last happy that i lost.
what am i talking about.
dead foxes aren’t scary, but dead fish are. never buy me a dead fish. not even a live goldfish. take me camping. take me fishing. take the reel when i get a bite so that i don’t see the dying fish. that would make me the happiest.
until, you know, i kill myself.
I had 3 poems published at have u seen my whale‘s first online issue, click the picture to read all three.