Blogging & Poems, My Poems

As the Sun Rises, The Brother Disappears in the Shape of an Acorn.

1.

He’s sleeping again, and inside
he dreams that he cannot eat,
cannot sleep—

and then he can’t.

Not like this.

Not in this room labeled C3
on the second floor—

on the kidney side

of the hospital.

2.

And then, I’m addressing you—

You are lost again,
your usual stomach pains.

Your body, falling
under your skin

depleting

mimicing
the act of falling

until you grow a new layer,
your layer of Seattle skin

and rain.

You watch a man as he falls asleep
at a poetry reading, the girl

one seat over rotating a ring
back and forth

over the knuckle—

the sleet and snow—

all silver, like a string
of lights on the balcony

reflected
in the window

like small swans.

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