My Ascent Light was leaching around this listless room As I sat paralyzed utterly consumed Watching the ceiling the crack that’s advancing Imperceptibly inching expanding Even the ghosts here have long since slipped away But not me I’m too afraid There’s the birdcage dusty and deserted Somehow she freed herself but nobody heard it All my molecules slowly come undone There were warning signs seen by everyone Even the ghosts here have long since slipped away But not me I’m too afraid You said we were making memories As though you weren’t in that moment Now I’m captive in this living room Hoping for my own ascent

The Hopper Window Burning trash in the basement fireplace Hiding the smell of your smoke break The bottle of rye hidden behind the furnace The remedy and the cause of your headache Sweep the cement and fill up the corners With the things you no longer can use Moldy old boxes and grey wooden crates Piled high with yesterday’s news You never told me who fired that shot through the hopper window Was the mangled bullet you kept in a drawer meant for you or meant for someone else? They say you left the city in a hurry With secrets as deep as a canyon Moved to the country, bought all new things And the old things could rot in the dungeon A sofa from the 30s in outdated yellow A mirror with a flattering curve A rusty set of weights for a once handsome fellow A love letter you no longer deserve You never told me who fired that shot through the hopper window Was the mangled bullet you kept in a drawer meant for you or meant for someone else

Ladder to the Attic Pull down the attic ladder but don’t climb up I thought that you were made of stronger stuff Clean out the magazines stuffed under the bed Do the things that leave you lost inside your head It’s only been a few months really I know you hoped that you might heal me Walk through the swampy field feel your feet get wet Let all the mockingbirds help you to forget There’s the wonky treehouse I built when you were kids It might be where that noisy squirrel still lives Maybe your mother wouldn’t approve I was only thinking of you I swear I was only thinking of you It had been so long since I could think straight This kind of darkened thing swells and permeates I laid the green tarp on that dusty floor Took out the sidearm from that worthless war You said that you were confused I was only thinking of you I swear I was only thinking of you

Party Pieces The floral centerpiece from last thanksgiving Has withered to poignancy Once the loudest room of the house on any given night Now as silent as the attic Things have a way of being quiet when love leaves a home Chased by the demons of a past grievance Learn to see the wonder Sanctify the spirits of the dining room Sanctify the spirits of the dining room It made the guests feel like kings It hosted all kinds of things: Party pieces Jokes and melodies Stories of the sea That joy never leaves Never left at all

The Shy Old Artist The shy old artist started coming around in 1964 Courting, out of character, the country girl, Annie They would talk until the wee small hours Until the artist was too tired to drive home The small solarium had a pull out daybed Where he would sleep, surrounded By a jungle of spindly houseplants And Annie would go to bed upstairs On early summer mornings around 5 AM the sun would start to flood through the picture windows that ran from floor to ceiling And the artist had to cover his eyes with his long sleeve tee shirt If he wanted to sleep past dawn He usually left before Annie got up to feed the cats But sometimes he would wait for her To come and sit with him in the sunroom and make small talk Watching her free morning hair shimmer in the fern dappled sunlight The long vintage nightdress that didn’t match her age The floor tile cold on the bottom of her bare feet All the tiny sacrifices that lead to love

Episodes Bathwater’s gone lukewarm and my skin’s turned all pruny I’m pretend smoking cigarettes like a scene in a movie Dad’s still in the garage and mom’s making meatloaf My mind’s consumed with this buzzing mosquito All the kids at school must know what has happened It’s gonna be much worse than I’d imagined I wish I could hide in here soaking forever I don’t know what’s holding us together I wish there was some antidote to all of her episodes The bowling ball the flirting firetrucks and cursing Promises apologies blaming some made up disease I wish that I could leave this house but I’m never coming out Light starts to fade away I feel cold and clammy Stand up and dry myself put on my jammies Lay on the bathroom floor and look up at the ceiling Some days I don’t know what I’m doing First time it happened we were at the carnival The rides the horses cotton candy everything was wonderful Then a look across her face like lightning had struck She’s like a volcano ready to erupt I worry those same sick ghosts tangled through my mom like ropes Hover here inside of me flooding my biology As the room turn nearly dark black I feel scared and trapped I know that I should leave this room but somehow I’m marooned

Mom in the Kitchen The card table has collapsed Under the weight of newspapers and maps I hear my mother in the kitchen Making voices for scenes she reenacts I look for meaning in the things I should forget While she smokes her cigarettes She talks about her missing keys All the locks that they once opened They say it’s easier with time I haven’t even begun hoping There’s a land between crazy and quirky I know she never meant to hurt me The wallpaper has been coming down for decades We all need to break free I see my father at the sink doing dishes He’s been on my mind lately I pull the flowered curtain back It’s always dusk inside of this room All the apples have grown soft I’ll make a pie sometime soon I tried to leave this place so many times Maybe I’ve grown resigned She’s talking gossip with the plants It’s kind of funny in a certain light I pull my pages off the fridge Start reading stories that I’ve typed Outside a rabbit listens quiet in the weeds As wind moves through the trees There’s a fissure where my life split right in two I’m both a man and a chicken While I’m out there making waves out in the water I’m also stuck here in this kitchen Your blood just below the surface seems to visibly race and it can see the line of regret cross your face. Just below the windowsill there’s a fragile rabbit listening trying to make a word for everything The wind comes in reminding you of strength and hope a You’ve started leaving this s town too many times to count and the aftermath of your decisions cause a fissure where you are and where you could have been. Experiments on n human behavior carried out in the back of a Buick there’s the moments of paralysis but you’re working your way through it. If you can just find a ribbon for your grandfathers typewriter The way we marginalize the undesired String our shoes closed with wires

The Passing of Seasons Watching as you dressed trying to stay quiet Your rings and your stockings like a delicate pirate You in the bathroom readying noises Then from the outside enchanting bird voices I’d lay like a mummy planning the day Never suspecting you’d slip away There on the wall the rabbit you drew The one from your childhood I had tattooed Pine on the ceilings to cover the cracks The chair near the window where you collapsed I tried for ten long years to find another home Living like an ascetic cloistered alone How can this be the same house the same lifetime Me still sleeping in our bed with you in decline I took down the photos of us at the shore And all of those paintings we couldn’t afford You called me an alien my needs were so few Just a quiet corner and some solitude You’d call to my office when I hadn’t eaten Joking I’d missed the passing of seasons I still have the pillow you soaked as you dreamed But now there’s another that curls beside me As she falls asleep with her head on my chest I stare at the ceiling my mind all a mess

From the Roof I was on the roof looking through a telescope at the sky Suddenly everything seemed awry The way the constellations were positioned felt untrue Somehow it made me think of you This isn’t that same moon we were so enamored of The night you said you felt something like love These aren’t the same stars we hung those wishes on They must have moved along Maybe I was drunk maybe there was something in my eye Things look different seaside I could feel the wind passing through my porous skin I forget how to begin (loosening particles within) This isn’t that same moon we were so enamored of The night you said you felt something like love These aren’t the same stars we hung those wishes on They must have moved along

2 Car Garage The two car garage had a single door Just lifting up the thing would make you sore Mid-century footprint and curtained windows pullstring light casting evil shadows Look down and step with care There’s motor oil stains everywhere Don’t breathe too long or too deeply Healthy lungs don’t come cheaply The two car garage had an eight foot shelf With enough of a leap you could hang yourself oh but perish the thought just an illustration There are gentler ways to ease frustration Stow away the rowing machine You’ll never again look eighteen There’s an active hornets nest in your mother’s antique hope chest