telescope

from your roof
we look into the eyes 
of the giant squid.
monster is a place you go 
to cultivate a fever.
do not tell me about my pain.
i feed it humming bird nectar 
& give it a blanket fort.
telling you, “i am mostly over it
until i’m not.” everyone always has
suggestions. mine is to avoid
conversations about the afterlife.
a remote control lets me 
flip between a the telescope 
& the microscope.
everything always feels 
out of frame. paper napkin moon.
take out box of knees.
eating with a warped fork.
i dreamed a morgue of stars.
piles of dust.
you sifted in them in search 
of designer shoes but only found 
my father’s pocket watch. 
put the powder on your face.
i kiss a crash site clean.
the street lamp winks
at me & now we’re lovers.
100s of years of capsized tongues. 
now let’s rename every galaxy.
that one is a stray eyelash. that one
is a u-turn. that one is
a glitter bomb. through the lens
i see a gushing vein.
you promise me you are okay. i am not.
i walk into the night with a syringe
brandished like a telephone.