seamonster 

when i say "everything" i mean i do not know
how to stop. i step outside & there is an ocean
i made & now i have to shovel water.
once, god came to me & put his snake beard
an inch in front of my face. i closed my eyes.
my joints have grandmothers. my grandmothers 
have only februaries. i am living off
mythologically grown strawberries. their insides
taste like tin foil. the sound of a car racing away.
car chase. nothing to gain but rubber.
i put my eyes in a mason jar & swallow the lid.
the seamonster was my fault & i'm sorry.
in the kitchen you tell me, "this is what happens
when you never say 'no'" & i know you're right
but sometimes a word feels more like an infection
or an inflatable pool than it does a real place
someone could live. i do not know where i live.
the seamonster knocks on the bathroom door
& tells me to hurry up. i am trying. i have
scheduled time to breathe. just three breaths 
& then the fiberglass planets are going to break.
i promised to pick up the pieces. i am always
promising to pick up the pieces. the monster
isn't hungry. she isn't lonely. she just wants 
to be monster. like me, all she knows 
is her own terror & then everyone around her
becomes a mirror. screaming the flesh 
from the house. only bones. furnance heart.
one long long lizard tail. tell me, when did you realize
you were breathing underwater? i stand outside
in the wild lawn. the crows come & land.
they ask if i am alright. there is an ocean in the mailbox 
& an ocean in the basement & an ocean in the garage. 
the crows are eaten by the seamonster. or else maybe
the seamonster is just the sea & the crows are eaten by sea.