when i’m alone in a room, this is what I come up with

the weather has its legs on my chest.

once my wife had two hands

on her throat. we managed to pry

off one hand. it left the imprint of half

a butterfly. i am not

in the magnitude of life.

at least not in the way i want to be.


mothers cry sometimes. there are two

men at a bar who want to ask

each other if they really believe

in love. i do they would both say, or

at least i want to.


does your mother cry sometimes. how

does the grass stay green

under the snow. i want to meet a man

who walks with both his arms

held out to hug the stars when he walks

through the mountains at night.


mom, wake up. mom please wake up. mom don't die. for god's sake don't die. mom. mom. mom. mom. mom. mom.

mom.


mom.