Lie Down

t's okay to lie down with your sadness tonight. you miss her.
               so much between you. words the avalanche of them. what you ate or will eat.

throb of the internet, wired. a closet full of should. your phony Buddha posture.
               whatever else you do to yourself. the doing, the forever of it.

burn all of that shit. let go.
               something snaps like a twig in the forest, or a bone. she slides into

your closet, touches you, finger to your forehead,
               finger to your heart, an accusation: Feel this.  

Feeeeeeeel. wherever you have been hiding. whatever to you're going from.
               imagine cats dropping like balloons around you, the soft weight, the waiting eyes.

imagine you cut yourself and bleed birds. there is a canvas for that.
               imagine you pick up the phone and call someone. the stone of your voice cracks

water comes out, you start speaking like the sea. no words but all this out, Out, OUT!
               imagine ice-crack on a frozen lake. how deep, how roundly cold the bottom.

ten words before you fall in.
               did someone say I love you? imagine. who would say that?

ten words. stop thinking.

imagine everything you broke. the sad tinkling of glass.
                such a sharp rain in a world with no glue. 

imagine what you can't have. the mean little knife of it.
               yes, yes. like that. like a throat in your chest.

a well you can lean over into with bound hands, ankles.
               now spread yourself like a broke-back book.

now open the way the night yields to the pointy stars.
               lie down. resist the way desire resists

with a siiiiiiigh.