tomorrow 

i built a cathedral of wrists 
where the words were all stone & mumble.
a single red cherry dangles 
in my chest where a frog should be.
it rained frogs once & each time 
i start to notice droplets of water
coming down from my ceiling
i hope they'll be accompanied by 
amphibians. i lose a finger on each hand 
to the wolves. somewhere, there's a pocketknife
with someone else's name on it. 
if all your windows are made of dust
you never have to look out
not ever again. bags of sand slap
again the sidewalk. i'm falling over board.
my rowboat jostles in the water 
of my living room. the cathedral 
is not for worshipping just like
the sun is not for warmth. i grow a blue tree
from my veins. i smell a coral reef
in the sink. all i wanted was 
a swimming pool big enough to throw stones into.
ripples are briefly animal. all my teeth 
are ankles. here is your truth 
i am looking for it with a magnifying glass.
my life is a story if lopsided haircuts 
& broken dishes. i pull a shard out of my heel
& out pours all my secrets, loud & unstopable.
i know there is an angel assigned to me
because i never die. i know there is
a flower in the mailbox eating my letters.
that is why you never wrote me back.
what kind of planet is made of dirt?
whose back door is dangling just 
on the other side of the house. 
what will i be if i have nothing 
i can call a porch? my nail clippings 
are waiting to become moths
but i scoop them into the trash.
on the curb, everyone is almost
their shadow. mine asks me a question
which i ignore because once you respond 
to a shadow you never go back.
no friends. just shadow talking all day.
the cathedral wasn't much. it was more like
a doll house if i'm being honest.
no water in the sinks. no glass
in the windows. a door propped up against
the front door to keep it shut. 
an intrusion is impending. 
everyone is hungry. a fishing lure
lilts a few feet away. nothing good.
probably my father. it has a wad 
of potatoe roll on the hook.