Erstwhile means long time gone.
A harbinger is sent before to help,
and also a sign of things
to come.
…
Today it’s completely
transparent, a vase. Inside it
flowers flower. Thus
a little death scent.
…
Skeleton
I thought, and stay
very still, whatever it was
will soon pass by and be gone.
– Matthew Zapruder, Come On All You Ghosts, "Erstwhile Harbinger Auspices"
A lost brother, a dead cat – there’s a whole bag of feelings
we stuff in the deepest recess of some kitchen drawer,
next to browned rose stems, their thorns broken,
sepals crumbled, us unable to remember what
color they once made us, as we walked through
the brightest solariums at noon.
I am imagining this another way: Even if
my therapist tells me not to: You and me
in this together: Heat of the desert:
Building this windmill with Legos
custom designed to bring us back from worms.
It’s okay if it doesn’t work.
If your heart is heavy put it on a stick
over the open flame, crisp it black,
smack it between chocolate and cracker.
There are wolves somewhere
who feel more pain, if that’s possible, and
they will take care of the rest.
I am still smelling fruit. Are you? I only ask because
recent studies show it could add several years
to your life, which would then make room
for more cigarettes, another argument here or there,
weighing who you are, the decimal points extending,
prescribed fires raging in the pit of your stomach.
We’re attempting to preserve the pain forever.
It might seem perverse to some but just think,
We’re a good SEO headline away from cementing
our suffering. I click Send, hope we accounted for
the clang of the shovel. The time capsules
from the turn of the century. All the dead Tamagotchis.
Tomorrow is always the scary part:
Will we be able to hold the chin-up
long enough? How many Tums is
too much? Eventually we just
stop asking questions and unthread
the hose while it’s still flowing.
