Disabused
And I without my canines,
gnawing on meat with just my back molars...
I'm screaming “I'm on your side!” as you fire
arrows at my boat. I am not trying to escape.
I am coming to shore to be with you.
I am standing at this funeral. Everyone else
is crying. Am I supposed to be sad? Do I
know how to feel? Are my dreams broken?
I plant a little seed. I want to watch whales.
I want to smell salt water and seagull shit.
I see you searching for oceanfront properties
that we can’t afford, good luck.
I am remembering looms that hold muted
yarns that would later be rugs under our feet.
I fear an embolus will enter one of my
chambers. What will happen then? I will
learn to feel and my dreams will be over.