The heat blares against that god forsaken box,
the quarters of each house, pushed together at the end of the block
like
we’re running out of space,
and breath, or
energy
things to hold
The leaves green as algae,
dying all the same
hover above our heads like a curse,
the atmosphere
heaved up unpredictable
raucous
Making the mailbox seem like some novelty I should
capture in a postcard
Dear father,
remember when the systems worked?
-I mean, remember when we thought we could fix them-
remember when we said thank you to strangers?
for doing their work,
as though bending over backward 9-5
was something worth doing,
and after
Dear daughter,
we took for granted how the sidewalk burned through our socks
how the lawns were perma-green
all the dwellings crowned with trinkets
the wild yarrow sprouting through the mulch
wet and staged
backdrop of my American dream
rock walls we pretended
would defend our sanctity
at least,
prying neighbors opinions
Remember
when we had the audacity to own things
other than our actions,
remember when we realized life is on loan
and the bill hangs over our head like a sentence
Or
chandelier
Remember
automobiles roaring death gears churning
the buckets of mail spilled over the back seat of the blue,
white wagonthe
remember-
that’s what we thought made the world a whirring spindle
My arms stretch one way across the globe
and all these faceless being pick up the slack till
my palm adjusts to knowing desire
All I see is grey pavement
hot
as the lava that makes our world burn
the postman sees a mother with her swollen grin, and a little girl holding a key
all I see is days I’m soon to lose
Some neighborhood that won’t exist when I’m ready to lay my soul
down
payment on a picket fence
All I see is
a little girl who’s holding the key,
stuck between the past and
future,
-cut short-
I help her find the lock,
unbridle all the secrets,
I take our momentous chore,
put it on a postcard, someday one will find,
maybe burnt around the edges,
drifting at sea
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