We lie in bed with our arms around ourselves,
cradling the mangled bodies of children
who had the stars squeezed out of their eyes so that, still shining, they fell
down our faces and got stuck there in the shapes
of tears and little hairs and pimples.
For a while,
if we shut our eyes tight, our bodies aren't so stretched
and overgrown,
and there's a little more time to play before sunset.
We built a superman.
In our heads, we built a superman.
Clipped by a speeding bullet,
So that false blood, stolen blood, blood that was here first
Last night, I left the basement light on.
The stairs creaked and my paper-thin pajamas
rustled as the sickly little bulb pulled me close.
That house, worn down by sun and salt rain, was doomed. In a few years,
it would be a hollow replacement, gone from our stale grown-up brains.
Comments
This is beautiful.
I love this.
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