Poems

12 Month Story Building

"we are sitting on our hands in a 12 month story building
where everyone starts to take things seriously,
and you are looking at me like my tongue is a chisel
and my arms are sledge hammers
hacking at the foundations of the concrete we built.
you cant see your words making everything sway.
my dog died, you say
not with cushion but with knives in between your teeth.
you look at me in the eyes and say you didn't get to see her
before she passed.
i know, i said, there was a reason.
the building starts to tremble and you are holding my hands,
taking my weapons.
quake.
my mom said she misses you, you said.
Her hands shake every time i mention you, you whisper, please,
please, please, come say hi to her.
i shake my head and you mistake it for a sudden tremble.
you panic, swing your drills.
quake.
i haven't changed my sheets in three weeks, you said.
your perfume still haunts the sheets, they
rise up at night in the form of your body, they
tell me it is a nightmare.
i say, we just woke up from one.
you said we have very different ideas of dreaming
quake.
we never get large trembles to knock us down all at once.
you hold your hands up to me like i am about to shoot you down
but all i ever wanted was for the us to be out of the
twelve month story building before
it crashed.
you screamed, it already did when you left.
your vocal chords hit the walls.
they shake, they quake, they scream, they
fall.
they find our bodies in the rubble.
you had gun powder residue under your fingernails.
the quakes have stopped.
i cry each night, i rattle the walls, i
fake fake fake fake fake the
quakes."

(m.c)