I hear the rats runin the walls like waterthrough a tree. My blood
thickens. As I dreamthe masturbation dreamthe shelf above my bed
falls covering me indirt and decaying beetles.I see my reflection is headless.
When the waves stopand the moon grins downto overtake me: the car
ran up the street that nightwhen you were nearlymolested in your neighbor’s house:
is this why we don’t haveneighbors? For this the treesrot only for us?
I woke screaming and youcame to sit next to me. I feltmy eyes were open too wide
that I could not shut themfrom the horror movie sittingon your lap in the easy chair
in the dream the other dreamin the living room underthe tree. Why do I feel guilty?
I wake up in a pool of waterclosed over me like an eyelid.There is no longer comfort
in staring at the ceiling.Its pitch blackness beckonsinto a future of blankness.
My body lay still quaking.My mind is chained fastto the beating of my heart.
I sit up slowly creaking.I find myself alone buriedin an ocean. Far off
there is an eagle flyingtoward me. She lands onmy knee and lays an egg.
I think not this againsomething I’ve neverthought in my life.
I think not this againsomething I’ve neverthought in my life. Not
after losing my car keysin the easy chair. Not afterscratching myself on a branch.
Not after finding the thingin your dresser drawer thatnight. I remember you suddenly.
You run through melike rats down an alley.You are in my blood.
You scared me onceremember? Jumped outof the bathroom door.
I fell screaming ontothe linoleum. Did youapologize? Did you need to?
The ocean that surrounds mecreaks like a rockingcradle. Your face bright
as the moon at eclipseand as red. Low songmy tide stretching
to the horizon. Rippleson the surface beliesomething bigger beneath.
In bed I am alone forthe only time. In bedI am a grown man.
Below the blankets Iknow you for who you are.In bed I see your face
pressed against the window.I look out and see youand I am not afraid.