(first post, not ready for feedback yet but encouragement to keep going is welcome)

Peace is the long length of a zipper Unfurling in slow motion, yeah, You remember that, you remember 16.

And peace is the sawdust stealing Sound from the periodic Voice of your grandmother spilling Gravel over all that memory of Some memory of time.

Until it’s not there.

I broke my door with your Blood, I tailored the weather to blow your Flesh forward, my hands in that Stranded hair wreathed in violent Gritted Sorrowful Force.

I’m sorry.

With all that bled regret, I held your head close to the floor, I tangled my teeth into the memory of those Lips, those fingers, I licked all the truth from the Salt, I parodied your last breath with a Soulful lung, a sliding toothful pain.

Ah so much pantomime, pretending in Two-thirds time as the beat scores Five-ninths down. I tendered the scenery as our memory slides Away from the movers moving your scent from Hallway to bedroom, To floor, To humming lamplight sliding Caricature of what we’re going to Remember 10 years from now.

And soon, this will all be a Serengeti tune, Hot in the bar-stool-pentamic tongue of Something warm, something… Broken.

I hope some day you wave down the driver and Not walk home, I hope some day the Fruit kisses Your Fruit And you forget that Your Grandmother’s lisp is only just becoming a waver And all those forgotten names are becoming not just Wisps but Joy.

Caricature of a Caricacture of All those wrinkled limbs, we helped you onto that Ambulance and loved those last Deep-souled-lantern breaths.....

Doors were closed.

So much sky in the sky, those clouds are your clouds, And on the death-bed of your youth you will Remember..... T'was such a story that your movie Will never be made.

Tis' ok.