wph

Kid sitting at the edge of a dock.

Legs swinging in free fall.

Wood scrapes into his hands.

He thinks that the stars can talk to him.

Midwestern night.

There’s something out in the fields,

Something banging on the roof.

Fresh vomit in the toilet.

The sink is running, so you can’t

Hear your own heavy breathing.

There was a collapsed star.

There was light at the very end of a cave.

There was lightning that struck a tree.

There was a baby born

With a slightly bigger skull, one day.

The humans are out there taking their bows in the light where the world can see.

We are piled up, 

cold and immobile on the floor as the green room light fills 

Crunched windshield from last February.

Glass was embedded in his hand from when the truck flipped.

They hit black ice on the road.

All the little animals swam up to feel the air that day.

They danced in the water like they never had before.

I know they did.