untold

i suppose you want to hear

how it all went away

where the words that were never said go

and the dreams unaccomplished rest

among the children of an eunuch and the camp

fire stories told by prometheus

but i am tired of this language

there is so much noise in us already

the bannister of mothers cooing hope

the first cotton candy caught in between teeth

the slow grind of decay kissing your laughter

that scoops me in its hands

and into the bust of a question mark

asking me

if this isn’t it

is anything this

years later

there is an answer

in a dentist’s reading of how

black marks show you are emptying

a telescope looking in on its own stars

a glass house

made to contain light

but to lose it

daily

to onlookers who wake up

in another hopeful

horizon

*

i can’t tell

if it is the ceiling shrinking

the floor rising

or just me growing

if the books have all pooled

together and erupted from the inside

if i want to kiss you

like the sea swallowing the sun

on a summer day that finally came

in between the finger tips raining cigarettes

where you tell me

all is told

and you will do all you can

to i

which means like lick love and then leave

me

to be me

who tries to whisper to others

what it was to be talked out

of everything