Enjoy Being Human

Hallway

& we roll, back & forth, the ball,
from bedroom to bedroom, brother to
brother. The words have been lost to
experience's decay, but still, the ball
we roll, back & forth. This, the
hallway of broken glass, of an
uncertain cry          & who was at
fault? Did I nudge the painting, was
it crooked? I think & roll, back &
forth. There are dreams of coming
back down, thirst quenched, only to
find an alligator looking from the
corner, ready to bite. The dreams
aren't solid enough to roll, back &
forth, from the past to now, only
occasional in their resurgence.
Eventually split rooms, after the
days of abandoned games & "fuck'
heard in the kitchen, falling asleep
before the new year. & these stories
always returning to ash, to decay, &
we roll them, clay-like, in our hands,
back & forth,          back & forth.

from lean

I lean into —

so visitors may come— // and lean—and
view it sidewise—      the following
conscious adjustment, noticing others'
eyes      & the hope of not being that
viewed, the hope that this outfit is
flattering or flattering enough. there's a
moment when i'm a little drunk & too
warm but i keep my sweater on, just in
case. & this sweater, as a choice, too—
i am alive— i guess—

Note: The italicized excerpts are from Emily Dickinson's poem, "[I am alive—I guess—],"
and are slightly modified to fit the formatting of this poem.

from lean

I lean into —

car windows, the tempered glass offering temporary
self-salvation, though
sometimes warped & there's moments &
moments & a lean away from the barber's
mirror, can't make this eye contact can't
tell the back's difference. & a window a
mirror, a mirror a mirror, each reflection
its own wound, gnash of thinning, ground
& cut & what of this body grows,
what of this body moves on, forward.