CHLORINE

The past can't be revised but can you
          bear to look back and reinterpret?
And then I hasten toward
          that future eternity of being not-me.
To us the giants are a punched hole of light
          to them we are a punched hole of light.
In love we're in permanent compartments.
          I am traveling through your heart while
you travel through mine.
          I have invited you to your journey
I have invited myself to mine.
          The spaces inside sea foam
always bound by film that snaps
          merges
or splits
          but never overlaps, no
it always stays itself.
          This is why the smallest indivisible
parts of me are shaped like little commas
          curves that speak to the wrenching
involved in differentiation.
          And, and, and.

Magnolia, tulle, hibiscus, brocade.
          The outpouring crowds into you
and when enough has filled you
          the consuming and consumed are switched.
These words are my delay.
          Go ahead and build an image of me.
They are all false
          all possible
the one you love most of all.
          Light shines into my skin
did you know that?
          You were touched by the sun
when our bonds were entangled.
          Now this hung-open cleft
of needing you.

          In the belly that dips belowsea
a fire encased in iron.
          I am angry that I was born
to speak these scripted sounds.
          What can I do to deserve different ideas?
The spark hops like an irrepressible flea
          from grid to grid
confiscating solitude.
          The kept predators we've decided
to grow in cages
          they're too dangerous for us
to release when we can no longer
          afford to feed them.
Put another way
          they starve in cages
because they would kill us.
          You tip the uncapped mouth
of a bottle in my direction
          wielding it like a pointer finger.

__

PRIVATE CABIN

          Every waking renews the contract.
I am so alone when standing by another's joy.
          Why am I like this, spying, uninvited?
There must be two kinds of people
          in this world: those who forget they're invited
and those who forget they aren't.
           
          Now of course I will say I am
the vapor who is neither.
          In fairytales that which wounds
can be dislodged
          the embedded shrapnel falls
away from the heart
          the poison is vomited
in a hard round ball.
          The scar tissue seals and
encloses the intrusion with mucus
          so the body remains original.
I've always been mid-sized
          too aware of those around me
to carry on my agenda
          too impressed to be oblivious
or antagonistic.
          I have always been noticeable
enough to go unnoticed.

          I used to lock the door of the bathroom
to read and play with dolls in the mirror.
          Then, later, tirelessly hope for my face.
The letters I took into the bathroom
          were by schoolmates grown
writing to their friends and supporters.
          They write that they've improved
and hope for my forgiveness.
          They hope I'll get this message
they hope I know
          that they remember me fondly.

__

These poems are a part of a longer project, Interacting Galaxies, which thinks about why oceans are eternal, but human relation ecosystems as archived in text are evaporative.