pete

admission

i knew something was shifting when you looked over my shoulder and started laughing with the dancing woman on the wall.

the lightness surprised me.

distracted from the story so far i imagined that your release was imminent.

i wanted to call ma, call my sis, check in, no worries yet, he’s still good.

soft focus set into hard truth, i scanned the room.

your clothes folded and stacked on a stool.

your slippers, hopeful add-ons for this stay stood by the door.

mobile phone, glasses, and car keys near the door, well out of sight and drifting out of needful reach.

the oxygen machine shushed tide like and rhythmic.

at first I couldn’t look away.

i was transfixed by the tubes and wires streaming your details into the hundred machines surrounding us.

when i checked the blank wall i didn’t see a dancing woman.

and i wanted to tell you that, but the you that was there was suddenly different.

you were you again.

sad eyes looked at me with fatigue.

the smirk and mirth gone.

fear, maybe anger pursed your brow.

i wondered if there was a way to live between the you that saw dancing phantoms and the you in the bed with tubes and timers tracking your peace.

the question never surfaced.

the chance didn’t come up again.

you stopped seeing mirages.

the slippers were never used.

p.s.

find my art.
pay the bills.
make early starts.
feel big feels.

take my time.
ink my arm.
write next line.
smile, be warm.

listen to health.
reveal my thoughts.
connect with self.
question lots.

listen then talk.
find my voice.
less chat, more walk.
cheer others’ choice.

great big space,
fills that chair.
now we sit,
he’s not there.

support my mom
[but I’m not him]
that’s okay
[no one is.]

honeycomb

burned down,
past skin.

through
blood and bone
into the micro,
the infinite,
I found you.

honeycombed
and hollowed out,
at odds
with host,
and making
space
for a growing
emptiness.

a hungry
little
squatter
with out
conscience.

building a
kingdom
with
impunity.

the vastness
of this space
is not
worth exploring.

I want to
make your body
whole again.

ship
shape.

life
proof.

more
than
less.

I glare
at your
close companions.

breath through me
machine says.

eat from tube.

move with chair.

clean with sponge.

laze with t.v.

you, holding hands
with remote.

me, with hands
in pockets.

I will
have a hard
time
befriending them.

26 steps

head bent
and staring down,
you say

i’m good, i’m good

in
rasped out
air
ripped edges,
punctuated
by that
beeping sound
somewhere.

this is not good.

you lying down now,
but not resting.

26 steps.
26 minutes.

where did you go?

you were gone
too long.

confused,
i wondered
why walk?

why,
try to,
do this thing?

I mean,
the stained sheet
maps out
exactly
the imagined spaces
of
what you
still control.

and
this very short list
reminds me of something.

when the body betrays,
who can you blame?

two persons
are created,
which is most trustworthy?

I shift
uncomfortably.

when
did I stop
seeing
you?

all as one.
aggregated.
whole.

I see
that what was
and
is,
now stand
at duelling distance

across from
will and wanna be.

mind torn from body
embraces the imaginary.

your body
right now
stealing the future
and
eroding the past.

twice you forgot my name.

once I disappeared
right before your eyes.

is the imagined
now that you seek?

is that why
you wanted
to walk?