I.
how easy it is to look the past squarely
the 90 degrees needed to turn right as it
comes to pass: the muskets at the ready
each clear shot in range of what might
have been: what a shattering of wills
miles behind the lines: it all ends the same
over coffee, a friend, a few laughs
until there's only a glimpse of the light
that once shown hundreds of miles
II.
into a past that will never be - because
we are not young any more, no life here
or there. is it anywhere? can we find it if
the pecking continues. and it goes on like
if no one ever died. or no one ever will.
i have visions at times. dreams. did i say
how when i left you one night. and slept
on a couch: in my dream i would awaken
to be in another and another. till i finally
III.
ran back and curled against your back.
traced each freckle to memorize it. in my
mind it became a roadmap to escape
still it kept pecking. and here i sit on a ball
a playful sort of cat waiting. inching closer
while tapping: i dreamt i spent a christmas
here. I could not find you. i could never
find you. it has come to pass this past
i dreamt - perhaps i should have told
IV.
perhaps i should have not run and let
the dream run its course. perhaps is so
vast. a leaf scrambling to be free
searching each word. what does it all
mean. there's a new cat under the tree
of another friend. i don't wish to reclaim
her or her brother. how did we ever let
it go. why did we ever let it go. when
did we ever let it go: or did we - have we
V.
possession is nine tenths of the law. i
have not been possessed. nor do i care
to ever be: this pecking is madness
this bird that sits in my room. majestically
portrayed on a branch. its red plumage
daft. it needs life. its beak exhausted
confusion with each shot. no matter how
sweet. no matter the time spent. i still
feel you tapping on my flesh: echoing
