Friday, September 3, 2010

the living room is a staple of the American family

you don't remember (how can you not remember)
this is how a mother speaks
memory, speak

your eyes are lit in 16 year neuron firework
i am reaching toward a
nursing infant

the door slams so closely against my face
i feel it's soft sob and shake
California

the great cry of your unknown heart
pouring in drywall
in staccato

the Mormons at the door assure me
God will protect
God

all night the living room we hold hands, look
toward your room
the tv

silent, the perfect Poltergiest
a vortex in the place of
our faces

my worst fears live inside the couch
they eat our sweat
like candy.


m.m.e
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