and this could mean nothing or this could mean something
the glass holder of
the candle I carved a name
it was just the heat,
and the words had melted, but
somehow I worried.
I had rubbed my spit
into the needle-scratched wax
with my fingertip.
I had sighed with the
thought of relief, I had tried
to not be consumed
with the thought of it.
and this could mean something or
this could mean nothing.
you hurricane hitting land, no
you monolith in the room, no
you sailor scout sleeping on the fold out couch,
you black rain swallowing the town down south,
you chewing on tv static, oh
you pinning your hair down tight, oh
you did it this time didn’t you now
you turning on and off that light
you closing and opening up your mouth
shaking a cocktail shaker until the ice melts and it stops making noise.
there are a number of receptacles of different shapes and sizes. you can shrink your body down to fit into each one. you swim in them like very small, deep pools. does this make you feel safe or unsafe ?