Hickory slough
Don’t tell me not to steal rings off of buried fingers.
What I do is between me, and the cracked open hand of the 10 foot deep boy with a jackals head.
I hadn’t come down for him,
Only for the jewels around his neck.
But somehow I ended up staying.
I cracked open his callused palms, looking for an answer,
And the mouth between his life line laughed.
He said we used to be alive once, me and the boy with the jackals head,
but now we both are dead.
Even if I’m dead in a different way than he is.
Mine is stolen and his is taken, and I take from him again now,
the maw says that him and I were together and should be again.
I want to remember him.
I want the glitter to wash off my fingers and my brow.
I know it’s my fault, pulsing daisies pushing too hard, driving everyone away.
Especially you.
No matter how much I kiss the dirt you won’t come back to me.
I cradle your jackal head in my arms.
And sorrys roll out of my mouth
I want them to fill up your eyes and nose and throat, but they fall on deaf ears.
I doubt I will ever remember.
I count the stars on your face and cry out.
And The mouth between your lifeline laughs,
For he knows nothing I say matters.
