I want to step outside my brain,
Absolve its monologue
And become a small white flower
To shade the robin egg
That fell to the grass
Between the shrubs and chain-link fence.
The doors are locked.
The dark windows reflect the alley’s light
And from behind the screen
The father becomes a kind of no-shape,
A reflection in toilette water
Where the warrior brow flattens out
As a bracelet rattles in the bedroom.
That self festers in the cellar,
A mold spawning new colonies
Of devils who have swallowed the scrolls
And digested the passwords.
I try to vomit but what comes out
Is neither human nor invertebrate.
Exoskeletons cannot swim.