Jul 11, 2018
dead man’s float [tattle-tale]
meteorites
dangled
above my head like
daggers
suspended by fishing line, those
celestial lures singing
for my hands
and I
received a telescope in the mirror that would
take me just close enough but
when my hand slipped inside the box I
woke up and
searched the sheets for this telescope,
I
searched the sea for those meteors,
never
looking up at the mirror above me, those
daggers and comets dangling, swinging reckless I
could not look up at the mirror.
I could not see the ashes from
every birthday candle scattered on my palms forming
a map in my lifeline like a palmistry read, a
trapdoor in my
thumb nail, a second
world where the first one
feeds like a
tributary,
and I
have no canoe but can just
dead man’s float in.
