caramel 

i put the house on my tongue
& walked out into the ferris wheel wilderness.
that was the summer where
everyone was trying to be as high above 
the town as they could. i had
callouses on my knuckles
& callouses on my fingers from two
different kinds of repetition. 
playing guitar in my bedroom
until caramel candies spilled from 
the instrument's belly. i did not eat
any of them. my knuckles were from
punching holes in the wall or at least
that's all i'm going to admit to. i ate
as much sugar as i could & then floated
on a life raft in the shape of a hand.
i liked to pretend the hand was
your hand. when i say "you"
i just mean everyone i wanted
to love me when i was fifteen.
i climbed a tree that turned out to be
a vein. on the ferris wheel the town
looked like a diorama of 
a ghost. the clock tower that 
i climbed that electric winter. 
afterwards the house always tasted 
like rain. i have watched the spirit leave
a cake. you cannot eat the house
alone even if you unhinge your jaw.
even if you are convinced no one
would notice. ants came & ate
all the caramels. i wept, thinking,
"if i would have let myself have
just one." the wall always healed itself.
it was like i never punched a hole in it.
instead. i took off my hands & spoke
softly to them. i said,
"go on. i know you know how
to be a blue jay." they refused. 
the ferris wheel became a dinner plate
rolling on the kitchen floor. 
you were the size of an ant. no. you were
an ant & you came hungry.
i wanted to be so far above the town
i could not even see 
how much of us you were going to devour.