Incomplete from July 06

"before you put my body in the cold ground....

take some time to warm it with your hands...."

This Year

This is the year my flesh is ripped from my bones

I lay down to the world and confess

That my grief is real

This is the year my hands wipe my face clean of lines

And lies and lives

And I relinquish this power I have

This is the year that I see the ghost in my kitchen

And ask if my sins are repaired

Only to hear a hollowed reply

”I am not real, you saw nothing”

This year travels in me like thick iron syrup

Promised to cleanse but only makes me foggy

And I know I wake up to find

Another year I lost

This year I wait for stick figured doe-eyed men

To cross the stars and land before my temples

The ones next to my eyes

So ripe for gouging

This year I will depend

On little tiny hands to hold my heart

And keep it warm

Hands wrinkled by long

Luke warm bath water

But they were big strong hands

This year I will survive

On top of crackling leaves

Like Live Oak skies that smile

on young men not yet burdened

burdened by coarse worlds

and cursed words

Kumbaya motherfucker

This year winter will last but for a blink

We hope

We hope

And Christmas is rebirth for the spirits

Just like summer sucks

Our bones dry of marrow

Seasons all consuming

But not this year

We hope