He told me to build these walls and
finger paintings scattered and posted with words
spat and spat and spat and
he told me to light that candle in
my chest but it’s dark and the wax has
dripped onto the table
and i’m tired now, and that wax
will take a while to clean up
i’ll have to get a knife.
We once built this place and
everyone knew the words.
the hardest decision
was herbal, green or black
as dylan sang in an early morning in a late spring
and we slept in waves with the windows
open clinging to mouths and arms full of last nights
exhausting and the time after
is tired now, and that wax
is taking years to burn down.