found a home in your misery (ours)

by blake ellington larson

rented a beach house without consulting

photographs i won’t touch (can’t)

spent all afternoons chasing trails of
hidden cobweb notions that
could of built our church

but the old man inside me sleeps it off

as if i could puke you out of my lungs
as if i could forget our
everything-is-made-to-break-us philosophy

II.

i can’t wait to hear your post-life debauchery
your elvis-is-alive monologues
your no-more-coffee-days

but my totem poles are
filled with stardust and wire

and as you are sorry
i am thinned

III.

and your worry sings chimes

and my sturdy arms flap upwards

and the blue turns to black

and the wings beneath my wind

secretly

crawl crawl crawls

to your moonlight

(2007)

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