11/26

kennel

divide my fingers into cages.
one for each dream. who should we send
to fight off the comet?
i am dripping with 
glass again. i don't have
enough air. the rash 
appears in the shape
of a crescent. the moon 
is too old for this. 
the men are taking the carpet away--
rolled up like a tongue.
i stuff my fluids into 
a vase so the robbers won't take them
when they inevitably open 
the front door. i leave myself unlocked
for a reason. a key swallowed 
by a daughter. whose fish 
are dead in the bathtub?
a whole lot of barking 
from the basement, would you like
to explain? sorry that place
doesn't exist anymore.
hit the back button enough
& you'll find where this all
went wrong. the doors 
are breathing. a shadow dog
prowls the streets
in search of a bone 
to gnaw on. i don't have
enough room for ankles.
the forest once horse-knee buckled for me.
collapsed & never was heard of again.
now there's a clearing 
where even men are afraid
to build a dungeon.
we eat by the fire & roast
our root knuckles. 
gasoline is singing blue & bold.
the basement is growing
farther away & soon
it won't even pose a problem.
who do you sell your
catastrophes to? i jar mine up.
screw the lid on tight
so i can't hear them whimpering. 
they're fermenting. soon
i'll have pickled our old love
& it'll be a whole new beast. 

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