WARMING UP

We may keep missing what is always unlocked,
I wish we never made it to the border.
In some ways the dead all around you
are aware of the times, the guillotine is high
because it means the flowers from your hair will not make
it all the way. I had asked myself over and over—
waiting for the weak blood in the wall. My silence was at least
time to discuss things, time to mask my contempt for everyone.
When I think in the window, there’s always more to discuss.

Mysterious frozen smiles, in many ways it comes
to tell each other our feelings. In some ways I’m happy
to stop ghosts who have no need to jump into something
so quickly.

From this hill you loved me, breaking glass
on the other side of sound. You are suddenly
the outsider looking inside, and houses are bridges
that just won’t burn—even if anyone in there
still knows you and wonders
if anyone out there still knows who I am.

(March 30, 2011)