poem 

i am the god of necklaces 
& rope. i choked on a knot of sea weed.
sunk to the bottom of a mason jar.
preserved by the hopes of twelve-year-old boys.
watched the ocean shrink to the size
of a quarter. all our profiles
are severed things. i have only
half a face which i use
to befriend my own divisions.
shake hands with snakes. catch birds with a net.
list for me the uses of a mirror.
1) catastrophe 2) re-arranging
i need a new eyelid. re-learn how to blink.
i'll wrap your heart in damp leaves.
the gathering has already begun
& we are dreadfully late. i dream 
of loving you without intention or a body.
i want to be something other than ghost.
you pointed at a great fallen tree
& told me the torn up roots
make fairy homes. that is where
i slip your heart. safe keeping.
all treasures should be hidden.
a mound of multiplying pennies in my closet.
100 is a useless number.
necklaces sprout from the arms
of my stagnant ceiling fans. 
a gloomy dogwood up from between the floor boards. 
some poems don't have titles 
because a name would make them too sturdy.
i don't want to give you any hints
to where i'm hiding that mushy thing.
when i say "heart" i mean 
"everything i'll someday miss about you."
sometimes i wonder what happens 
to us when we finally stop saying
"heart." the necklaces let go
of their clasps. the clothes petal off.
hair falls to the floor in clumps.
it's too late but i'm calling this poem
"i'm keeping your heart where 
you can't find it." all the pots & pan
dance in celebration. they had the seance
without us & now we know nothing
of our futures. oh well.