Thursday, October 17, 2013


there was sap tangled
in my hair that day
and you promised you'd get it out
but instead you left it

and it tangled and knotted
and mossed,
and it took on the same wild nature that
your heart has

and before I knew it
you arrived with a wheelbarrow
and a grin on your teeth

and you heaved shovel
after shovel of soil around
my ankles, toes, and thighs
until my fingers could feel only dirt and no longer skin

and then you left me
in your mess

it was over.
the sap in my hair
seemed to be in my blood
and was making every beat, thought, and hurt
move slower through my body
you seemed to be syrup in my veins

and just when I thought that was it
just when the soil around me felt light compared to the
heavy hurt in my body

the dirt was rippling around your every
step, and you were running back
with that stupid elbowing grin
and a bucket

to free me, I thought
to shovel me out

but instead you traced a
finger on the piano of my
spine, pricked my skin,
and collected
all that I had in me left

"maple syrup" you said, with those honey eyes
with that shy hint of accomplishment in your lungs

and then you left,
to go have pancakes with her.

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