poetry – Page 17 – Thistle Thoughts

I Hate This Dream

on a crumbling seawall
you wanna talk
ultimate dreams

I want to call you up
and say that every
movie I watch lately
stars you.

Now my mouth doesn’t know what
my shadow is saying.

When I was in the state of erosion —

— things were ok

dawn rises
singing her canticles,
touches the killing fields

I am clinging to
memories of
blue parakeets
lullaby-ing me
to sleep

a verbal knife wound
twisting
every fiber of my being
until I’m
scrubbed raw

…voice the scraping metal
sound of teeth
on a fork,…

Odd half-smiles
and congratulations
are thrown about
like the farewell rice.

A cherita.