Purple Shearling

You are not around to smell
the pork on the fire deep
in the ground there is a hush
I know that swallows me and I
cannot swallow when I think
of you gone and resting now –
to feel the pitch darkness
my stomach swims in I don’t
want you back you got away
flying–the brush of light
in the corner of my eye
a butterfly I catch a glimpse
around the corner nothing heavy
to sit on your shoulders ever again.

It is the 4th of July
and the flags are dancing
soon the sparks will crush
open the night sky blooming
to dangle into thin diamonds.

God I know you are one of those
sunbursts blasted into the night
I prefer to think of you that way:
so free and finally independent.

Somehow I’ve hung on
My hands sweating on the monkey bars
Dangling on like the weakest charm

If my face hits the dirt will I
Breathe in and know its worth?
Right now my bones are white
Holding on to my dear life
And if I swing my body forward I
Only hope my mind will follow.

Somehow I’ve hung on
My hands sweating on the monkey bars
Flecks of rust stain my palms

If I keep swinging I’ll move on
I can see the other end
But I can’t forget where I’ve been
At times I think I’m giving out
On the drop of fear and doubt

You cheer me on to get across
Hanging here I’m at a loss
The sun is sinking in the trees
We take for granted times like these.