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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.
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