hide & go see

from this vantage point 
i notice your collection of glass eyes.
learn to lodge myself
behind clock faces & in the blades
of ceiling fans. watch as
arms & wings move in front of me
making an animation of your life.
the distance between "your life"
& "our life" is a slingshot letter.
i pick up the twig & snap it in half.
look now we're whole. one wonderful seeking. 
who was the last person you made
a drawer for? the last 
between-the-ribs shrine
with a lit tea candle? i cover my face
& tell you to try & see me.
i'm at the bottom of one of my mother's
old purses. i am writing about
being struck with a broom handle
as a boy. it is amazing how collision 
is all it takes to become a monster.
& by monster i mean 
a boy. & by a boy i mean 
something hidden even from 
myself. i bought binoculars
& a microscope. when i say "ready or not"
we are always the "or not."
how does one prepare themselves
to be a subject? a submission?
i stood in the middle of the hallway
& let the glass eyes spill
from underneath your bedroom door.
you said, "here i come."