tuck me in

my tag is hanging out of my shirt
and I'm only wanting you to tuck me back in-
tuck me in so I can dream
and remember the paleness of your eyes-
I am dripping
and the only sound I can hear
are the voices of the legislative battles
over who's right
for whose rights
their ink quills blazing trails of "No"
and regression on parchment

but we keep birthing babies
and contradicting ideas
in a free world that grips the necks
of a thousand boys and girls
who think they can all grow up
to be president
365 steps to knock on freedom's door
but the door is revolving
it swings us in
and kicks us right back out

when did individual rights
become a majority issue-
when did love become untouchable
when did my fears turn me
into silence

tuck me back in so I can sleep
and paint the world a pretty place
where every sort of -ism
doesn't exist.

falling

behind the waterfall
the world is a blue cowl,
dark bell of spray,
and we can read the names of past lovers
initials etched into the sandstone
the crude, empty hearts
fashioned like unearthed artifacts
from primitive times.

your hair plastered to your forehead
and your earlobes honored with the tiniest globes of water –
this place smells of damp words
which cling to the walls
like nurslings.

lampshade
we are kept
we are promised
indelible and blue
we hold hands in this blue, pentacled womb

our clothes sticking to our skin like postage stamps,
your fingers long and creeping,
like wasps stricken with cold.
the sound is defeaning
yet beneath it all
I can hear you breathe.

and night falls – it always falls,
the cooling sun dislodged, like a pulled tooth,
and the branch-tips lose their filaments.
we emerge from behind the waterfall
stalk along the ridge,
where the flower are puckered
like sour mouths.
gossip and smalltalk in the trees

and the downy owls cast their eyes about,
unknowing yellow systole of the night,
filling up blue chords
you wink in and out –
an indecisive, perishing
flame.