My Pinocchio

bye bye lucid wristbone you have shaken me awake to many times now. rattling my head, rattling back to that old house. back when it rained a lot against the kitchen window. all my dreams were kept folded up in a brown and red quilt from my grandmother.. cross-stiched knees and ankles warmly wrapped for the night.. in the morning there would be cereal bowl milk rings on the kitchen table. maybe even a little gravel in my skin. but dont look now cause the backyard swing is made of rust. all my memories of wood and cloth. see where I was sown together so long ago. so get out the wrench and untighten the bolts, my chest to open, my head to close.