How to Build a Fire Pit in the Backyard -Alexis Pope
May 8, 2013, 7:43 am
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , ,

Tell the world about my small hands. Tell them
about last summer and the floral mouth of dawn.

We are still swimming and the lack of air is crowding
my lungspace. All these exploding goldfish and I’m piecing

together a puzzle that looks a lot like a brick wall.
There isn’t enough oxygen in the room, so I’m leaving.

You never were very good at sharing. This extreme
ledge and I’m not trained to land on my feet. I’m training

this lion to act like a house cat. I am not good at a lot
of things. I am not good at you. I am building this wall

out of macaroni, but it won’t stop raining so I’m stuck
building a door with no door. I’m coming home

someday. I am building you a couch and stuffing
the cushions with scrambled eggs. It could be comfortable

but it’s going to smell soon. Tell your neighbors how
we are building a cemetery in our living room. How

we are taking applications and practicing our swan dives.
I am praying for a drought and a snapped neck. A life

without feathers. A life of hushed sentiment. The results
are always the same: a snip of fabric and soft swoosh

of string. My skin will stay on tight this time. I can feel it.
The path gets dark up ahead and if you shut your eyes

you might feel me winding around your ankles. There is
not a lot to be thankful for. We are fleeing to the surface

without knowing what’s next. I know we can make love with
our eyes closed. I’m not sure what happens when we stop.
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