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There's a fire behind the boathouse.
Plastic grass twisting in the heat, now blackening, now slinking into the ground
As if it did something wrong when it burned
Shamed by the long straight line of the army
Flames marching in time with the drums

If I turn away right now, if I run because I'm scared,
Will you forgive me?

Next to the old barbecue is a propane tank,
Not quite empty.
No one knows what kind of damage it can do if it explodes,
But here: picture it, how high it might fly
This happened in Thailand a few years ago.

Right around the time you took me on the water
Said I love you while you held my head under
Wondering what it would take to make me breathe

The smell of wood now from the back of the building
This is our curtain call, the last encore
Red fingers pull apart the stage,
Race for the door

In your beach chair you crack another beer
Check your phone, scratch your head
Pick up the paper, turn to all the numbers
Count them one by one, tapping in time with the burn.

Warpaint

Downstairs, voices.
Sunday morning they're so bright and alive
Like family visiting and the kettle boiling
All those places they have to go.

Upstairs, clutch at silence.
Please please let me disappear
Countertop strewn with takeout garbage
All dressed up in clothes from Friday
Slept with every light on

Oh come now celebrate your terrible ordinariness
Strap yourself down, you'll still careen towards Monday
Stay off the bus, the cold can't take away the plain
Dress yourself in blood --
You'll look pretty just the same.

Wide open

The lonely rabbit considered his empty home
Oh so quiet
No one knocking on the door, maybe somebody selling something
Now and then.

The lonely rabbit had a drink before dinner, to hear the ice in the glass
The sound of something
Of I am not alone

Give your thanks to television
I can hear the neighbours and their friends
A dog barking, someone's walking,
Someone's become so much more than me.

The lonely rabbit looked up the stairs toward bed
Remembered all those useless goodbyes
That time he had to unplug the phone it rang so many times
Those nights he slept with the lights on.

The Reel

Then he put down the lesson plan
Shook the shock from his hair
Wiped the dust from the chalkboard.

Slats of wood ran against his back
Flesh poking through the spaces in between
A memory of metal,
That old bright linoleum
Rounded heads of nails and sneaking fingers underneath

He thought, Maybe today I'll be a fisherman, I'll catch something sharp and alive.
Keep it steady while it writhes
Like dissecting each objection from young mouths,
Young hands in the air.

But there is no water here
Just paper and dry land
Ink stained lips and gawping mouths
The ridges of fingers and sneaking dust underneath

He sighed an earthquake then,
And the letters of the alphabet fell into place.
Split open the ground
And rows of desks violently aligned.
The apple in his desk lay rotting, rotting
That old bright appreciation

Before the bell rang he opened the window
Drew the blind an inch or so
Young feet come marching, he put one trembling hand on the windowsill
Hoping for a flood.

Dust

I remember places we went together. Sunshine in the cold air, sitting beside you on bales of
hay, reading my book while you slept. Sweet-warm winds came rolling up to meet us, like kids
laughing up a hill. When you awoke it was like a whole new day beginning. Running through fields,
the long grass sweeping at the skin on my legs. Making circles around gatherings of trees, birch trees
covered with white bark and green leaves that glittered in the light. Scrambling up to the top of a grass-covered hill and down the other side as fast as we could go, arms outstretched like we were flying.
“Come on,” you shouted, laughing, every time we reached the bottom. Up we climbed again, over the
peak, until I leapt in the air and stumbled, surprised at the fluttering of white pain in my ankle,
unsteady. You helped me up, your eyes alight with the wind and your heartbeat.

We headed for home where I lay next to you, curled into your lap, where you stayed all
evening as the sun ushered the night into the living room. You carried me nearly two miles, my head
twisted into the smell of your hair. You who seemed so big back then, who now would reach only to
the top of my forehead, should we find ourselves, somehow, standing side by side.

Umbrella

I'm coming up from a cloud
You said one more, why not --
I'll catch everything that falls

I'm too hollow to be proud
You said hold on, it gets better
And other words to round me out.

He dragged her there to here
Never touched a thing
The diver waiting to dive
From the brink, ecstatic

I'm digging into the ground
You said why so overdone, fond lover
I liked you better from over there
Where the screaming wind was a sight to see
But nothing much to feel.

Hide and seek

Once they got stuck in the underbrush
Red berries crushed into their hands
Who knows what under their fingernails
They had to slither to get in.

Before that, they were running
Rinsing the surprise from their faces
Scrambling for ways to go faster
One too small to keep up

Saturday morning in the crawl space
Could barely hear the rage from down the hall
Breath quickening, heart unravelling
Trying and trying to be quiet and still.

The apartment down the street

The last time we met was the time we started counting
You, so sure of your addition
I watched you place bills on the countertop
Apologizing one by one

When the pipes burst we turned on the oven
Sat on the kitchen floor, played Crazy Eights,
Found things lost in the freezer
Waited for the thaw.

We put the cards away at a quarter past three
Closed the oven door, thought about ways to be warm.
I watched you tape my keys to the countertop
Locking all the windows
Pulling the blinds until there was nothing to see,
Nothing to make plans around

Nothing but to add up our time,
Agonizing one by one
While we waited for the thaw.

January

We need to start a fire.
Let's pool our intentions,
Count up our matches,
Lose track of how to survive.

If you stand just so, the fire burns redder
Fueling excuses
Striking up reasons
Desperate for all the ways you can let yourself down.

All the live long day

The kids on the bus go round and round
Round and round and round and round.
Wasting not the scenery
Wringing out their hands
Undo all their sound.

The suits on the bus go round and round
Round and round and round.
All along the freeway
Twisting through downtown
To count the hours down.

The girl on the bus goes round and round
Round and round.
Remarks on her forehead
Tattoos up her sleeve
Daylight run aground.

Clawing at the scenery
Crawling up the glass
Round and round and round.

Cara

At the family reunion.
I've cut my hair to look just so,
Not sure why it matters.
No drunk uncles passed out in corners
Here everyone stands up straight, side by side
Quick now, form a line
We're all sure it matters.

There's someone I'm trying to remember
Something I was supposed to bring.
When you ask me how things are going
Aren't I impressive when I nod my head, smile that smile with my eyes on the ground.

I'm twisted into this easy shape
Standing straight up, rotting in line
Trying to shake what matters
Before it eats me from inside

Come the sun

So fine, let's pretend
I'll put on this jacket with the logo on the sleeve
You can ask me questions and I'll map out some ideas
Prettied up to look like imagination.

Okay, let's be patient
We're here because we want to be
I'll hold my breath a little longer
Here because I tried.

Wait for the morning, everyone says
Things look better then.
But then comes the sun
Warm on my skin
Sharpening its teeth:
Trying to get in.

Dawson Creek

The sky is on fire
That late afternoon light swallows you whole
Burning up birch trees

In the sudden city they chase dogs down the cul de sac
Carving tunnels into snow, spies lost in nighttime suburbs
Forgetting their way home and all the reasons they should hurry.

In the morning I stand on the sidewalk
Cold, underestimated
Waiting for the fire to come again