widows and orphans

i'm not here
a poem took me, it picked me up
it's carrying me on its shoulders
so we'll catch you later, babyface
we'll find you later, maybe.

i'm not here
the words are carrying me like ants on their backs
like that childrens song
the ants go marching two by two
"hoorah, hoorah" / bruises on my thighs
& i'm hugging thin air
it says it's sorry, "i'm only made up of invisible gases"
of mostly nitrogen and oxygen
of mostly things you cannot hold or see but only think of fondly
when you look out the car window.
i remember one of them stopped to tie their shoe, the little one
it's always the little ones
i think i need to see your face
i think i need to break our hearts & hear the thunder

1 comment: