I
I built the wall myself
out of bones and sinew
washi tape, bubble gum
and a few gallons of spittle:
it’s stacked, controlled chaos
easy to light then run
the wall holds back a flood
of a to z things I’m to let loose
II
dad once said, “some of us
we set with death, the dead
the dying” and he did
until he couldn’t
with his boy he broke
I let him…break
III
half a world away
I’m trying have tried
to sit with you
if you can hang in
a good while longer
five days, Dad
was in hospital
I didn’t know
you never called
too caring by far you
and I too alike too not
I wonder when he goes
how long will I keep you close?
that final link of knowing
I’ll be the last one standing
I
I struggle bombarded
with polarized hate divisive
with minute pickings
at threads not frayed
leading to gullies dark
where I cannot follow
it’s a fine line between
caring and perpetuating
II
in the other space
I retreat at entreaties nastily
jabbing, “Why do you…”
and ever wonder why “Because
I am not you” is never a retort
sufficient in the war
of butter on bread before jam
and is it jam or jelly anyway?
III
my dark is deep
I was born with it
like a shroud it warms
cold bones and sinew
in the deep recesses
sheltering from the sun
that singes, a sun cocooning
a web too tightly shatters
and the light gets in anyway
THE LIGHT GETS IN I choose
to let it, to pry that door open