07/09

i no longer need to sleep

i play soccer with a ghost
in the big empty field. 
my legs turn to rabbits & a burrow
opens in the grass. 
you were busy with the blow torch
when i told you i felt an aparition 
at the school yard. you told me
to go ahead without you
so i road a donkey made of ice
through yard after yard,
stopping to graze on glass.
there is scar tissue in my throat.
do you remember the time
you put your hand around my throat?
all those little bones.
you never want to come with me
when i go to visit a spector.
the ball is a head of cabbage.
at the center of any leafy green
in a single tooth you've been missing.
we break a window in god's house,
the ghost & i. the ghost 
died of unnatural causes--
he fell off the side of a ghost
& just plumetted until
he struck the earth & burst
into a maple tree. now he plays soccer
with other lost boys.
you are busy with your own teeth
& a razor. the moon goes grapefruit heavy.
i want to catch it but it will
crush me like a spider beneath 
a thumb. the ghost & i are scared
of bringing the sky down on top of us.
you lay in bed, knitting a corset 
to wrap me in. what kind of ghosts
do you play with when i'm not around?
i let him make a few goals.
he lets me run the length 
of the field with my reptile knees.
he tells me what it's like
to live as a tree. he knows so much
about the wind. i do not miss you.
most nights i could go without
a minute of sleep. i am going to
stay awake for the rest of my life
& you will turn the pages of books
propped up against a year's worth
of pillows. am i your ghost then?
when you touch me, does your hand
make contact with skin?
i come back to my room,
sweat sticking shirt to skin.
you are not there at all.
in your place is just a mound
of rodent teeth & a feather.
i warned myself against
loving but here you quiver
in my memory. there are so many 
soccer fields open at night.
will you stalk one with me?
i want to be your ghost.
i leave all the lights on
in my mouth. you will know
by the orange glow
where to come back to me.

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