the Gleam, Pt. 3

I take everything I've already figured out with me wherever I go

Mind like a moth-eaten blanket,

wind whistling through the holes

I wrap up in its wool every day

I walk, I drive, I say hi to the faces of the other parents

I will forget who they are but for now I know

When the nights fall a dark spring opens

I dive entirely in to the holes in my sleeping mind

I swim all night across a black ocean

until day comes again

Standing beneath a sky of airplane noise

the sun on its wheel turning me old

warms the back of my head

death caress

I look across the gulf

I have seen the billowy black

These hereditary perforated minds dream off

and they don't come back

I'll climb through this torn wool mind hole in my knowing

to grandmother's house