The Boy Up North

I’ll drink myself to death

                And write myself to sleep.

I’ll dance my wooden fingers across my face

till my eyes shut and the world becomes green

and beautiful.

I’ll try to remember the days at the creek where your limbs

wrapped around me

           and my bird sang  and your
                                                                                          r
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                                                                                               v
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                                                                                                             f
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                                                                                                        o
                                                                                                   w
                                                                                                  e
                                                                                                 d                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

The day when the knock was at MY door and the bottle was in YOUR hand and you asked me to walk up mountains for you.

The day when my lips touched yours and you backed away and placed

your nails on

my chest

and the room grew silent and the walls reminded me of who your heart belonged to

I’ll never forget the voices of the chipping paint,

the breath of dirty clothes and

the reason of warm carpet

And the face of that boy who walks on

           FIRE
That boy who’s heart has               S
                                            U
                                                N
                                                    K into his stomach

So I’ll              S
                I
                 N
                  K

                                SHIPS with hops

And I’ll                     

   D
   R
   O
   P

A
     N
        C
            H
               O
                    R’s

made of stain-less steel into my arms

I’ll lie at the bottom of lakes

Till you pull me out, and wring out my clothes.

                Tell me it’s not my fault

                                Walk with me once again

                                         Let me feel

                                                Your hand

                                                In mine.

We will take off our clothes and swim in the lake from which I just drowned

We will lay in the grass and walk through the fields with the sun

burning our
               
shoulders

          and                         P   our legs
                    cancer crawling     U

                               
                 

                                We will lie beneath trees reading novels

                And singing songs of our chests

As we match the tree in my heart

                                To the staircase in yours.

We will speak in tongues and breathe grass and remember that we are not a love story

           We will remember that we are not forever

                 And our children will not remember us when we die

                                 And nobody will be at our funeral

                                                 And we will leave nothing behind

                                 We will remember that we are finite

                 We will remember the taste of fruit

           We will remember the taste of each other

We will leave everything behind

                And our children will sing the song of our love

                                                The song of the doomed

                                                                The song of the damned.

                                The song that was never

                                                SUNG