(no subject)

[pariahcarey]

for miles it goes

the color of wheat

a hawk hanging stilly

a white horse flat on its side

snug in fashionable jeans

we see stars without constellations

i dream i’m ten.

nude in nightgowns

i crawl out the window.

straddle then inch

the rough tree limbs.

i grope the old carnies.

you dream of birds there-

fell dead from the birch trees

and into the crystalline grass.

you sense the dead birds mean

actual cream-skin children.

i blame our strange cabin:

torn out slats in the blinds

that remind us of peeping toms.

we’re restless.

we fear tick bites. nettle rash.

fugitives holed up in shacks.

we argue if water

is safe for a drink.