happy father’s day
i say to a death certificate i can’t stand to look at
the paper is flimsy and dull
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when you die you can put your ashes inside me
I am used to being a home for the dead.
“can you look at it” i asked,
without meaning
to say those words
i dress the darkness
in doll’s clothing
with a crown of dusty, pink death.
Mind is numb, it's hard to focus. Attention to task can't be kept.
Chest is heavy, massive weight has been placed.
With every breath a strain to inhale. Body is exhausted, sleep is a companion:
Its friendship allows for an escape.