melancholia:

a state of planting
flowers & forgetting
to water them--
the marigolds that 
flicker
in the windowsill--
i made my rib cage
into a dock for
you to keep your 
sail boats-- sway--
lunge tide-- water
higher & higher up
to our necks-- have
you seen a mermaid?
have you fallen
in love with a mermaid?
her body wrapped
in seaweed-- she
is your sail to unfurl--
catch gale--
these bones are
wooden-- 
gnawed at
by sea water--
this is what it's like
loving a poet--
there are so many
words in my head
sometimes it feels like
drowning
in the drain of a 
thousand throats
& oh i love it--
their voices echo in
me-- me the
ear
pressed to the conch 
shell-- 
me to open
book full
of wet soil--
this year 
i plant marigolds
in the windowsill--
electric candles--
they remind me 
that at home there is a 
body waiting for me--
& that body has
thumbs for
planting more seeds--
pray for rain--
if nothing else 
pray for rain--pray
for a shower head
& warm water--fingers
running through
hair-- soap clouds--
rain rain rain
& the flame in
the window was always
a flower trying
to dig roots
into plaster wall--
i feel like a piano
being rained on
in some music video
for a song i want
to sing along to 
but don't honestly 
know the lyrics--
here-- if you
need a place to 
stop for the night
your ships can rest
-- tie rope
to dock-- the
tide rises to our necks--
stand tip-toe
with me in the deep
end-- what are we
doing here?-- isn't
it october?
i have snake teeth
left over from august--
i have a love
for you left over
from august--
i'm a summer bond lover
sticking the wet
leaves back in the trees--
i don't like to watch
the world so full of falling--
the only thing
the rain is good
for is kissing--
yes then-- 
i'll be the friendly
garter snake--
the one who crawls
on his belly
behind those flowers
i will inevitably 
forget to water--
i won't bite--
wear me like a necklace
i want to wrap around
you--
i don't want you
to fall for the mermaids--
their song a faint
hum on my docks--
my bones are made
of wood--
there are marigolds
glowing
in the windowsill
for us to find our
way back to these
bodies--
i drowned in word again
but here i am--
i'm back for you--
your garter snake--
your august lover--
melancholia man
catching rain
in a bucket as it
drips from the ceiling--