Don't Write About Me

"Don't write about me," he said. So I did.

we don't live
as rectangles
straight, this way or that
then turning
because you say so

dust collected on your words
all that time, unused
unrecalled
I pulled them out of that old trunk
(memory)
shook them out
I scrutinized, discarded, saved

every time you move
you leave something behind
an old receipt
(the price quite steep)
a rainy afternoon
spent looking out the window
mail
video store cards
a cup, presented
on the first lonely birthday
books you never meant to read
soft things
hair collected from a pillow-

these remnants
they don't fit you anymore
but words
you fold, hang, frame
wear, drink, paint
you save- take them with you

"Please," he said, "please."
(I nodded, promised, lied)
"Don't write about me."

The Artist

He died from being an artist. Or was he a postman- delivering loveletters? Yes, he died of a broken heart.

He was a poet who lost his words. He misplaced them and couldn't find them anywhere.

He looked behind his fridge, he looked under his bed. He searched between the pages of the books on his shelves. In desperation, he even undressed his lamp and peeked under her shade.

He saw her bulb and wondered if maybe the words had evaporated due to her yellow heat. So he sat back and took a deep breath- he inhaled and he inhaled and he inhaled. Without exhaling.

His lungs exploded, shattering his ribs, which punctured his heart. And he died and he died and he died- all night long.

Words

A soft blue chair, that turns in its place. A blanket, green and orange. Lampshades salvaged from left-along-the-sidewalk. A wooden table, crafted by a friend. A piano- Mozart's "Sonata in f minor." Old blown out candles from I-wonder-when (dust settled around their wicks). Books, books, books, spilling from their shelves: dictionaries, anthologies, novels, journals, poetry, Shakespeare, bible, Quran, others. Framed pictures, paper lanterns, bicycles, bicycles, bicycles. A desk piled high with more books, books, books-

...and behind them, my love, in his stripes, floating in his words.