Checkers In The Ward

Whisper was your name when you came to me in a dream

I still slur about you

And sit up in bed when I sleep

Afraid that I’ll catch you in the shadows of my ceiling

How am I feeling?

A little nervous that your bleeding through the cracks of my chapped lips

As the wind whips with the movement of your hips

Entrancing little constellation

They just keep telling me to be patient

But now I am one

And I think it’s terminal

Like the last image I have of your jet lagged funeral

Composed of notes you dance in a sundress made from the cloth of my bedspread

Singing of snow and the way it made you feel to be a part of a man made thing

Scanning the wall like the names on a World War Two memorial as you sing


As you sing.


Joshua Tool – 09/25/2012


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