loveless

When you left all the gears
went tumbling from my mouth.
My body so heavy even the
birds couldn’t lift it. It was hard
dancing alone in the tub.
My fingernails like jagged moons,
always ripping through my dress.
I was the butterfly trying
to pull all the anchors. It was
always like this when you were
gone, crying tears of glass,
trying to harness the clouds but
they just kept scattering away.
Sometimes I’d go looking for
you but the grandfather clocks
kept spewing up through the earth.
We always knew it didn’t make
sense but somehow it did.
The umbrella I carried turned
upside down and catching dark
water. I was plagued by gas
lights and giant keys, the men
coming to capture me through the
fog. At 3 a.m. the handles of
brushes meeting the back of my
throat. We’d go diving in the
swimming pool in the wheat field,
chlorine and forgotten saints
rotting the skin from our bones.
I’ll forget which lines
I’ve used already. Dream about
my father, his pupils dilating and
widening madly, eyes changing
color like traffic lights.