Rearranged, and the grammar changed to protect the guilty.
LINE ONE, 2016
I have forgotten how to sleep.
I don’t do things I resist.
I do not like beets or old goat cheese.
I know what is going on below the surface.
I think I’ll save the dollhouse that my parents made.
It was late winter.
We drove all afternoon and into the night
as if the only reality was the car—
He told me he’d killed the coiled dragon
here in this country called US.
So many trees across the path.
These levers, bellows—
Tonic. Sub-dominant. Every Good Boy.
We preferred tunes in the Crixian mode.
Don’t think about walking down the stairs.
It’s bad enough falling, or being chased.
All the women in our family have affairs.
If you’re wise,
forget the damned button—
it’s so small.
You know the watering can?
It reminded me of that morning.
It’s best to pretend it never happened.
Thanks a bunch, Kari. Just what I need —to focus.
What, precisely, is the point?
Not so much the spot of blindness
I might have been.
In the beginning, I thought I’d learn
the way they forget to.
Oh, my vice, my difficulty!
Goldfinches edge the lawn.
Now, I am drawn to gray, November,
cold chłodnik* green with dill.
Sleep, little one, sleep.
When I was a child, I could fly.
*you say “whod-neek”