my old man put a dent in me, when i was 4
he broke me in like a pack mule,
and there really is
no coming out of that.
the days are long again, the cherry
blossoms are deep in pink and the geese
are combing the golden down covering their
chicks and this gets me through.
all my mouths are hungry for you, the sleeping
mouth, the walking mouth, the heavy and
depraved mouth and they are asking if you
still think of me.
if it matters
i stopped dancing after we parted ways
my limbs and bones felt stupid, aimlessly
flailing the air around me.
