Chase Scene

at night you stumble, dreaming

cross-eyed of a chase scene

three yellow wasps on your chest

the city you turned around in

a chase that quickly lands into a fight

the nagging anxiety of a stain somewhere

a tickle at the back of the throat

a song’s bridge playing over and over in the head

maybe the stain is at the bottom of your lung

maybe this white crusting along the edge of the bed

I lay an icepack on your head

one of the old ones that look like a lazy waterdrop

unable to pop, I’m waiting for a more complete

courage, a peeled orange, a halogen lamp

believe it or not, we’re recreating someone

from the 19^th century’s sin, by proceeding

mounted on the edge of our bed like

a permanent display, matching burdens

to caramels

the thin plant over the dresser is belonging here

you picture yourself with pedals removed

and ask why you were not born gracious

I do a different dance in the same mirror

in the ultra-rendering of these buildings

I could snap my fingers

and every window would close

an accordion we accompany

Source: PoetryNow (2018)