Patient Hands - Troubled Coast

I want to know where the summer ends

September came with oceans between words and sleep

September shed its skin of still hush, patient hands

Young men Edmonton bound with young wives

Edmonton bound

Head pressed against her chest

Bottles grow in the dirt and rest between your ribs

Still I toss and turn at night in a winter bed

While dreamcatchers spun in twine spin above my bed

You’ve been writing out the past couple hundred years for the middle class

About the god you found beneath your sheets

How she never could hold her drink

I won’t write a thing for you

And now I see you in the places I don’t believe exist

And can not face yet, can’t accept

Its something like the cold, uncatching words

We use to read to one another

October came in dingy scarfs, black shades

Gloves under beds with boyhood dreams

A razor blade drug in unsure lines after missing mass again and feeling fine

A rising fear of the afterlife

A growing knot in my spine from slouching towards recluse

Keep me awake at night

Do you hear a still, small voice or catching nothingness

When you pray for

Head clasped between my knees

The night before is pushing through my throat and down onto the floor

While you’re somewhere in between the warmth and frigid depth of his mind and

heart

November came and I never woke

Let me clarify, I tried to wake

But voices in my head said stay asleep.

Do you hear them too?

And now I see you in the places I don’t believe exist

And can not face yet, can’t accept

It’s something like the cold, uncatching words

We use to read to one another

We jumped a fence only to find that home wasn’t close at all

Our bodies became space-lost-ships like cosmonauts drunk and alone

From here it seems we’re doing fine

From here it seems we’re never coming home again

I’ll be there when you break and when you’re crumbling

When you crack, fall apart, don’t tell me you’re okay

Don’t tell me you’re okay

And now I see you in the places I don’t believe exist

As the winter Earth spins on its side

Hands under gloves cupped under heavy eyes

It’s something like the cold, uncatching words

We use to read to one another

December came without snow and the acute absence of me and you

And now I see you, now I understand

December became disingenuous the day you were born