WITH A MOUTH AS WIDE
For those times you raised your hand at me but stopped yourself
I thank you
And for those times you couldn't
I forgive you
I'm grown now and know the bottle's bite
Watch how seconds of a clock fall like insects to the floor
Piling up all the places we should be by now
What I don't miss are the cigarettes
Smoking themselves all night and into the next morning
Ribbons of blue twisting in a muted sun-ray
And your tired eyes, wired wide awake
Instead I think about times in the bathtub
Eating oil and vinegar sandwiches, lots of mayo
While you rub my back
It was the only way I'd get clean
Today when I speak with spite, it is your tone I hear
And when I touch with tenderness, it is your grace I carry
This year I will be the age you were when you had me
I will not be in AA, I will not be cheating on my loved one
But with a mouth as wide, and an appetite for chaos
Relentless as it is insatiable
Who's to say I am so far behind you?
All along I've been collecting pieces
Too heavy to carry by yourself
They are not my choices nor my secrets
But still they are you, and so I keep them close
It's getting harder to tell
Where you end, and I begin
I thank you
And for those times you couldn't
I forgive you
I'm grown now and know the bottle's bite
Watch how seconds of a clock fall like insects to the floor
Piling up all the places we should be by now
What I don't miss are the cigarettes
Smoking themselves all night and into the next morning
Ribbons of blue twisting in a muted sun-ray
And your tired eyes, wired wide awake
Instead I think about times in the bathtub
Eating oil and vinegar sandwiches, lots of mayo
While you rub my back
It was the only way I'd get clean
Today when I speak with spite, it is your tone I hear
And when I touch with tenderness, it is your grace I carry
This year I will be the age you were when you had me
I will not be in AA, I will not be cheating on my loved one
But with a mouth as wide, and an appetite for chaos
Relentless as it is insatiable
Who's to say I am so far behind you?
All along I've been collecting pieces
Too heavy to carry by yourself
They are not my choices nor my secrets
But still they are you, and so I keep them close
It's getting harder to tell
Where you end, and I begin
WEAPONS IN THE BACKYARD
I
Among the things I’d rather forget
Is the wind chime you made
Out of grandmother’s kitchen knives
The same ones we used to set the table at Christmas
Are the ones you used to chase the opossums
Gliding through barbed wire along our backyard fence
Late at night
And then stumbling through the overgrowth
You pulled me with you to find them
Said they listened to us in our bedroom
Creeping up the walls and looking in while we slept
How crooked their teeth were
Mouths pressed up against our window
Is the wind chime you made
Out of grandmother’s kitchen knives
The same ones we used to set the table at Christmas
Are the ones you used to chase the opossums
Gliding through barbed wire along our backyard fence
Late at night
And then stumbling through the overgrowth
You pulled me with you to find them
Said they listened to us in our bedroom
Creeping up the walls and looking in while we slept
How crooked their teeth were
Mouths pressed up against our window
II
You wrapped the knives in twine and spent all afternoon doing so
They hung from sticks I helped you glue together
And caught the sun at seven o’clock
During summer, when that hour is the entire evening
They hung from sticks I helped you glue together
And caught the sun at seven o’clock
During summer, when that hour is the entire evening
III
The wind would come later, and then bedtime
But we couldn’t sleep
Listening to the knives chime
The delicate down on our spines rising
Breath shallow beneath the covers
But we couldn’t sleep
Listening to the knives chime
The delicate down on our spines rising
Breath shallow beneath the covers
IV
They didn’t come the rest of that summer
But in November, early one morning I woke to you
Rocking back and forth on your bed
Hands stained and shaking
Downstairs in the backyard
Were bodies in the snow
The twine had torn
From knives spinning through the night
Behind closed eyes I still hear their chimes
See your hands pulsing with panic
But in November, early one morning I woke to you
Rocking back and forth on your bed
Hands stained and shaking
Downstairs in the backyard
Were bodies in the snow
The twine had torn
From knives spinning through the night
Behind closed eyes I still hear their chimes
See your hands pulsing with panic