chimney dwelling

when i stay at the house i grew up in
i always sleep in the chimney's throat.
there, dead birds & fire ghosts 
tell me "we saw everything."
mice in the walls. laughter the color
of bruised mountains. what do you do
with your child self to keep it
from kicking? i feed mine jupiter beetles 
& tell it to go & look for crows.
do not worry about the static moon
or the television's glass eye. 
sometimes the chimney is the only place
if can sleep. i will get up in the middle of the night
& start building. cut a hole in the roof
of a stranger's home, saying, "i need
to touch the galaxy." outside stars buzz
like gnats over a carcass. you come & tell me
that you made a video of us. it is playing
in the living room inside a bowl of noodles.
all our friends are quails. 
i tell you, "i do not want to be
a screen door." bolts. blood. the chimney 
howls. the only perfect limb.
tell me i will rise like smoke. tell me 
that you love in a way that won't require me
to hollow my bones. that won't ask 
for a remote control to the dead end.
can you read lips? i'll mouth it to you,
"i am just a plantain in a potter's field."
in the chimney though i am holy. no one even
has to know that i'm there.