10/26

life raft

fill me up like jupiter.
i want to expand to the size 
of a salvation. the front door opens 
& in comes my brand new jesus
in an amazon box. he's got
a posable miracle. i'm eating
my ice cream now don't bother me.
we have to clutch each joy
like a migrating bird.
when the sea levels rise 
this will be a good place to rest.
all the beach houses bobbing 
in the waves like wine glasses.
dinner was not notable or new.
my fork tuned the sky. 
i don't have an ear for pitch 
or for music. i'm envious
of people who can sing whatever
is in their head. put a harp
on the moon already. harvest 
guitar strings before dinner.
a twirled spoon. a folded napkin.
my brother is on a paper airplane 
right now please pray for him.
i think pity gets me farther 
than love. how do i fix water?
who is going to sit by the telephone
& wait for the next bad news?
i will be occupied with 
hoarding life rafts. on the titanic
they didn't have enough. i won't be
one of those sea-dissolved statues.
i won't sing my clarinet 
for the end times. 
apocalypse sound track is all 
they're playing on the radio anymore.
what i wouldn't give 
for some violin. not a quartet 
or a bouquet but just a single player.
all my life rafts are made of glass.
i fill them with breathy poems.
read the mary oliver books you gave me
directly into the future. 
planets are all stuffed of 
wrong mouths. canoe lips. 
paddle away & pretend
you don't recognize me.
all my old gloves & utensils float past.
i pluck a knife from the water.

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