ides of march

so my bottom teeth are straightening

i find i am contained in my recoiling

to a tether that exists in this life and not another

when i sleep

top molars grind on the enamel of progress

and what i see

is still my front doors painted lime green

but i am not i

and this is not my house

nor my dog nor my street

do you see color in dreams?

invisible waves slanting through me

of which i am both carrier and host

there is displacement within me

a false bioluminescence

beckoning

go! walk into the ocean!

let the salt wound me

i don’t need to feel clean

just steady

and then came june

shed down to her legs in the living room

forgetting what she wanted

as the ides moved inland

from the harbor under the bridge

in a chariot of silver

so i began singing softly

something sweet

for the living could not help her

as they exist in the day

to lay the remembering to rest

oblivion is but a martyr with no recollection

of an origin or a cause

a calling or will

or imprint of what was

and then i open my eyes

i open my eyes and forget to blink