the right two people 

i want this to be
a story where the right
two people just need to
kiss for everything to
mend itself back together--
i can lay here sleeping
& pretend to be beautiful 
if it would mean all
i needed was a kiss
for the grass to grow 
lush on my legs again--
up my thighs-- green & 
thick & full of anxious 
jupiter beetles
& resting lightning bugs
all waiting for night to
come back so they 
can walk in the blaze of
the moon--
they kiss each other awake because
that's the only way they
know how to begin again--
i often dream about replaying
a day to try again--
instead i feel like
i fight each day like an 
ice cube-- 
fading valiantly 
into a sweaty water glass
grasped tightly in the callous 
right hand of my father
on the porch outside-- 
his arms are collecting sun burn-- 
i think maybe if
i gave back my eyes--
let the crows kiss them out 
like black olives or 
fat grocery-store-grapes--
maybe i could feel tired
again 
& the stars would
stop fidgeting under the
supervision of the moon-- 
this round wound
tore in the night sky
also happens to be
my mouth trying to swallow
air to breath--
it keep getting clogged
with flecks of star light
& lightning bug homilies
from the grass--
maybe i'll be the one
to find those two
people-- the ones
who need to kiss each other
to make everything right
in the world--
i'm sure it's not
me because i spend most of
my day kissing picture
frames & escaping into
the grass growing
tall as the pussy willows
on my legs--
i hope they don't try to love
each other--
i hope they kiss & walk past
each other-- 
give a cordial
bow of mutual thanks for
mending everyone on earth
& continue on to opposite
sides
of the sky-- the sun eats
the moon 
every single time--