cassette tape

i fear 
i will come apart
like this-- 
ribbon
by ribbon entangled
in the repetition
of my own voice--
this is the one
song i know
how to sing--
rewind me-- run your
fingers over 
my topography of
sound-- how
does my whole voice
feel in your hands?
maybe it feels like
a coin dropped
in the rain-- i lay
heads up for
your to spend me on
a gumball--
i'm thinking of 
the video tape
player
on top of the
square black living
room tv--
i'm thinking of
it's nasty habbit
of eating the ribbon
from the tape--
memories down
its throat--
it was so hungry--
there went the ghosts
of noise & 
shadow & bodies
pulled thinner & thinner--
oh most days 
i want rewind myself 
in bed at night
as the moon
lays there beside
me-- a rusted penny--
i tease it & say that
we're both two
old cassette tapes
collecting only
the clamor of
rain on our bodies--
i lay & only
out of curiosity--
i pull myself
apart-- thumb prints
on my own strands of
hymnal--
here is written
the memory of 
our whole family sitting
in the second row pew & 
singing
Ave ave ave Maria--
oh Maria & your cassette
tape skeleton--
oh just like mine--
pack yourself back up--
it's morning--
it's rewind--
it's time to speak
backwards &
re-write the story
of your tongue--
i find love poems
cliche
so i only write
them backwards
while i thread myself
back together--
warm & safe between
two soft blankets
& the sun outside 
was almost
a chicken but god
went & cracked it
on the edge of
the pan--
sunny side up--
it's november now
& i'm starting
this recording 
with the tunes
of the sparrows 
by my window,
the metronome clicking
of my heart, &
the sound the 
sun makes as it
cracks & sizzles