the popcorn storm of june 2020

i thought it was snowing
on this night in june but after stepping outside
i found it was a whole lot of popcorn.
some sort of popcorn machine in the sky.
up there, maybe there were 
gods watching a movie or just
a device gone awry. i take a handful
from the porch & stuff it in my mouth.
i woke up from a dream where 
my first boyfriend would not leave my house.
i told him i had to write an important story
for the newspaper. i ignored him 
but there he was with his thick glasses
& his pepperoni smell. he seemed to be
getting bigger-- taller. a different scale
than me. a giant man. the popcorn
unsalted & unbuttered. little puffs
of air. still warm. my hands 
cupped & full. i fill my pockets 
with popcorn. i sit on the stoop
& watch it come down. i thought
by now i had erased him from my dreamscape.
i thought my cells had regenerated
so many times & none of his fingerprints lasted.
in the dream. he stood huge over me.
i was like a doll & i pleaded that he would
just leave me alone. i was small.
i was a girl. why why why. hasn't it been
long enough? contrary to de beauvoir
i was not born but rather i slip back
into girlhood. the stoop is concrete
& sturdy. the sky is turning indigo.
street filling with popcorn. i think 
of the word "yellow" 
& the popcorn me & him ate 
at that movie we went to. how the butter
soaked into every single kernel 
& how he tried to feed me. he said.
"open" & i opened. he said "open"
& i alway opened. there he was
standing over me always. my hair
full of popcorn. his hands cupping my face
like a bowl to drink from. 
back inside, i fill a jar with the popcorn 
& label the jar "popcorn storm 
in june 2020." i think of the snow 
six or seven months away. everything moving
in circles. a kernel far above
responding to heat. a kernel inside me
healing over glossy & amber just
to turn brief & soft again. 
i wrap covers around me. i am not his,
not right now. light from the popcorn
glowing from the window 
in the corner of my room.

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