Speak, November
to speak of failure
like an old friend
who is holding my hand
walking me through winter’s corridor
is a film strip i hold no closer to my heart
than the empty reels i’ve unraveled before him
strips spun so fast they moved backwards
though i can read lips no better in reverse
so i slowed it down instead
saw the fallacy in speaking of love
like a fallen forest tree no one was there to watch fall
though i am sure it must have made a noise
slowed it down further
and found time there
spinning like broken ballerinas on my tongue
left out for last winter’s snowflakes
i wasted some 365 rotations figuring out a way to get back to the first one
slowed it to 4 frames a year and found you 4 times there
wearing lack like winter layers
imitating the wrinkle
under my eyes and in my bones
when sleep was safer than shoveling winter
from frozen gardens i forgot to till with fire
slow now to a still frame
where a lie is landing on another ear shaped confession room
i forgot how i learned to do this
walking next to you, tight lipped and stoic
i was standing on shadows at 5 pm
looking for warmth in the early sunset
shivering was the only thing warm about you
slower still
a closer look at film grain
shows silver and bone
how did i develop negatives without light
and blink for summer’s warning flare
winter holds no hearth for sleepers
so i’ll sit outside instead
crystallize the water in my bones,
hope they expand into motion,
and failure will speak of me
like an old friend
hold my hand through November
shout like uncut firewood:
dream of the words you will paint over me
and remember you are not in need of saving
start sleeping on venus
and say you only spent the night in winter
while earth was swirling like 150 coffee cups
you will not recognize March
you will bastardize Spring
be honest
when the atlantic has you on dead knees again
when you cannot flex better judgement like frozen fingers
you would wax tragic on fire if I let you
so just hold my hand
stay asleep
rest your eyes
turn all of this
into a dream
