everyone always said you were a turtle
growing like a slow and steady hardwood
fighting to keep a patch of sunlight
from disappearing like a dream

blossoming fig tree
don’t be afraid of the way the mokeys tear at your skin 
like desert 
you only grew to give yourself to them

don’t be afraid of the day
the sun turns dark
and the moon turns red
death is not something to hold in your elbows
keep sinning kid

find god in 
an open window 
during a rainstorm
without shoes on

make sure your toes taste like 
mud by the time we’re done with this

run like your shoulder blades were parachutes
and there was no such thing as the words “i’m sorry”
(there are phoenixes accordioned inside our ribcages
that whisper secrets to the treefrogs living in our spinal columns telling them to remind you it could have sworn we used to fly once)

tell your little sister that you love her
that her hair unfurls mermaid from the back of her skull
and be thankful for the day 
she saves you from the watchtower

promise me, 
that you’ll write down everything you remember 
from this dream
because something tells me these books are gonna burn one day
and we’ll need smoke signals 
to warn them
of our coming

and yet,
something tells me
we’ve been here longer than the smoke 
and the ash
and the bones laid bare against sand

this breath
we experience 
is nothing more than two mirrors reflecting the illusion of the other
yesterdays relics gift wrapped in dust
shift under the weight of your knuckles
if you don’t believe me
and tell me what happens when your 
fingertips break open bloodied moons
and crumbling fig trees

©A.Levy May 2008

_ _ _ _ _

Have words, sights or sounds to submit? lovewritersblock@gmail.com is your porthole.


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