How many tires

are at the bottom

of the river,

just waiting to

be found and

covered in mud?

How many bones

can my closets hold,

how long can they

hold me down?

I'm an observer

I look and look and look

At their faces

Into their eyes

Perhaps into their soul

Sometimes it makes people uncomfortable but I can't help it

There's no way to stop my gazing eyes

In me there was chaos.

A red and orange painting

all squares and smears,

spatters of light,

dark curling stripes,

ominous, hazy figures,

a guilded heart stained

dark blue.

You.

Maybe it was the devil

or god

or the ghost of my grandmother.

Maybe it was survival.

Maybe it was the moon,

like its small waves on Lake Erie.

I abandoned myself to see

the sky,

the stars,

both bigger than me.

sprawled out in his bed

as he counted all of my freckles

(74 to be exact)

the aroma of his incense

drowned my thoughts

memories of you

flooding every crevice of my mind

as if I just saw you yesterday

(even though it's been 248 days since you've died)

(not that I'm counting)