*

i'm on top of a mountain,
fingers stained bloodycrimson
from picking strawberries
& reading steinbeck;
i see all the stars at dusk,
& feel that mucky undercrust
orbiting beneath me, volcanic,
as i lay in the rocky driveway
trying to phone a friend
while the crickets scream;
i'm waking up in the morning
in an unfamiliar bed, feet cold
from a too-short bedspread
losing to the open window wind
that keeps biting on my toes;
i'm listening in the kitchen
as sunlight fights its way through
a box-shaped hole in the ceiling
and casts a little shadow
on the beam with the hook,
where i presume a noose hung;
& i'm looking at wedding pictures,
travel pictures, tiny teardrops
rolling steady down my cheek,
some caught on my lashtips,
mascara smearies all around
as i look at love in flux;
a bird just flew into the glass
of the window behind me